


(Not A) Cam Boy

by PastafarianAlpaca



Series: (Not A) Typical Romance [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:21:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3343493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastafarianAlpaca/pseuds/PastafarianAlpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Jordan are just trying to write up a report on the Sheriff’s computer. They aren’t expecting to accidentally click the link to the videofeed of Stiles’ room. They definitely aren’t expecting for the teen to be enjoying his alone time quite so much.</p><p>If they were better men, they’d close the window and pretend it never happened. If they were better men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post (http://captain-snark.tumblr.com/post/102244721833/but-parrish-and-derek-fighting-like-children-over). Thank you Captain for your plot bunny (seriously guys, the good captain just throws out amazing ideas for anyone to write, I think I’m in love)
> 
> Please keep in mind that this fic includes somebody’s sexual activity being watched by others without their knowledge or permission. I in no way support this sort of thing in real life – this is a horrible violation of a person’s privacy and is extremely illegal.
> 
> I’ve also made Derek 24. Meaning both Parrish and Derek are 7 years older than Stiles in this fic, and that Stiles is underage. Considering the general canon timeline issues, I don’t feel bad about this at all.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, but a huge thanks to AmilleaMoravii for ongoing encouragement.
> 
> So I've added some chapters. The first two chapters can be read as stand alone fluffy porn, especially if you aren't into long, uncompleted fics. I'm going to try to make each chapter have a kinda definite ending so nobody gets too bothered - no cliffhangers, but I'm not sure how long it will take between chapters so think about if that's for you. Every chapter will have porn though :D

Jordan Parrish sighed. When he’d applied to Beacon County Sheriff Department, he’d envisaged a sleepy town, not too boring, with a population of over 30000, but certainly quieter than the army. What he’d gotten instead was… werewolves. Sure, there were also wendigos, kitsune, banshees, and even werecoyotes. But the ones that bothered him most were the werewolves. One certain one in particular.

 

The man standing next to him, to be exact. Derek Hale. Two time murder suspect, former alpha, born wolf and probably the bane of Jordan’s existence. Not that he couldn’t understand the situation. The sheriff was a single father whose all-too-human all-too-breakable son just would _not_ keep his nose out of supernatural business. It wasn’t surprising that the man tried to hide these sort of cases wherever possible, choosing to send Parrish and Derek, both much sturdier than a 150 pound human boy, after the creatures of the night that were drawn to the magical tree stump in the middle of the county. Jordan just wished that the other man wasn’t so damn sexy, what with his, with his… _everything_.

 

Those magical missions was how they’d ended up where they were. Both men were wearing ripped t-shirts and bloody jeans after a simple reconnaissance job went awry. Very awry. If Jordan hadn’t taken the brunt of the shrapnel, Derek probably wouldn’t be alive. As it was, they’d discovered the deputy was almost indestructible, immune to heat, cold, asphyxiation and most poisons.

 

Well, they’d known about the heat since the attempted assassination. And they’d found out about the cold when the herd of Yeti came through. The poisons were thoroughly tested by Stiles, _without_ Jordan’s knowledge. Without _anyone_ ’s knowledge. And wasn’t that a scary thought? That Stiles could get his hyperactive little (big, actually. Not that Jordan had noticed) hands on so many poisons? Either way, after all of that, they’d decided to test strangulation. The Sheriff had vetoed stab wounds and suchlike until the first time bullets had literally bounced off Jordan. Now, though? Now Jordan was the tank, as Stiles had put it, rubbing his hands manically. Apparently tanks being the ones at the front who took all of the damage (and what military tactics had the boy been reading to get to that conclusion? It was just so confusing).

 

So when the necromancer had decided to change things up by throwing a bomb, Jordan had thrown himself over Derek like the world’s best meat shield. And he was going to act cool about the whole thing and definitely not think about how the werewolf’s warm body had felt so strong and solid beneath- Nope. Not thinking. There would be no arousal-type scents around him for the other man to notice. Especially when the two of them were liberally coated in blood and guts. He did not need Derek thinking that gore turned him on. And there was a lot of gore. Apparently the little chalk circle on the ground, the one that Jordan had stood on and smudged, had been _really_ important. Because watching a bunch of reanimated corpses turn on their maker and then dig themselves back into their graves had been seriously gross and disturbing. Entrails had actually come flying at them. Jordan had _not_ had to deal with _flying entrails_ in the army.

 

The sheriff listened to Derek explain the situation, pinching his nose in apparent distress. Jordan winced. Sheriff Stilinski was a good man and a good boss. He really didn’t deserve the shitstorm that was Beacon Hills.

 

“What are your plans for the rest of the night, boys?” John asked them, rubbing his face and filling up his coffee cup. From the almost empty pot that had been mostly full when the two of them left two hours ago, and he would so be telling Stiles about this. He was invested in the man living a long life, dammit.

 

“Sleep,” Derek growled. “Why?”

 

There was a definite edge to the other man’s voice. He’d probably picked up what Jordan had picked up – that the sheriff was angling for something here. Something that would probably require more of their times.

 

“My son messaged me,” John began.

 

Jordan sighed and sent up a few prayers. Everything that had been happening had rekindled his belief in a higher power.

 

“Apparently,” the sheriff continued, “there’s some sort of forest spirit behind all of the animal attacks lately.”

 

“How did he even find out about them?” Derek asked, scowling.

 

“It was in the paper this morning,” Jordan sighed.

 

“Well,” John said, “Scott and his pack were out tracking it down, but Stiles swore up and down that he was safe at home. He was even calling from the home phone.”

 

“You want us to go and check that he’s not out roaming the woods,” Derek stated. Not asked. Stated.

 

“After Parrish has written up a report for this zombie guy.”

 

“What’s the report going to say?” Jordan asked.

 

“Animal attacks,” John said. “We’re going to claim the man was training animals to attack and that the bomb he threw at you two startled them into attacking him. Two bad guys in one report.”

 

Derek stomped into the man’s office, leaving the two actual employees standing beside the coffee machine in the lunch room.

 

“You’d better go, son,” the sheriff murmured.

 

Jordan tried to hide his thrill at being called son. It had been a while since he’d had any family to say things like that. And longer since he had any he’d want to actually claim as family. As far as he could tell, the sheriff was a damn fine father. Jordan may have been a tad jealous that Stiles had gotten him for his childhood. It was probably why the hyperactive little monster wasn’t a complete delinquent. That terrifying loyalty and bravery obviously ran in the Stilinski family.

 

He managed to keep his smile tamped down as he trailed after the grumpy werewolf, who had sat himself down at the desk and was tapping at the keyboard with two large pointer fingers, frowning at the screen. The man’s eyebrows were ridiculously frustrated. Like they always were when it came to any technology more complicated than basic phone functions. It was most definitely _not_ adorable. It wasn’t.

 

Now… how to take over without offending Derek’s (admittedly vast) manly pride?

 

“Maybe let an actual employee do that?” he started. “That way we don’t get into any trouble. It’s all above board.”

 

“It’s a fake report,” the man grunted. “It’s not even a little bit above board.”

 

“Just let me,” Parrish started, leaning over to grab the mouse.

 

Of course the werewolf fought for it. The ensuing battle was more suited to elementary school kids than full grown men, both trying to open the programs they wanted while their joined hands jerked the pointer all over the screen. Jordan jabbed an elbow into Derek’s side where he knew the other man was ticklish, crowing in delight as he managed to move the pointer to the right shortcut, double clicking the moment it was there.

 

Unfortunately, Derek had recovered quicker than expected and Jordan had managed to open a completely different program.

 

Both men froze at the image that appeared on the screen.

 

Holy. Shit.

 

Apparently the sheriff had decided against removing the cameras from his son’s room after the nogitsune. Which meant that both men had a very good view of Stiles’ bed.

 

And Stiles.

 

Who was mostly naked and palming his obviously erect dick through the thin material of his briefs. Jordan drew in a choked breath, feeling his own cock throb alarmingly. Oh shit. Derek was right next to him. There was no way the werewolf wouldn’t notice what those images were doing to Jordan. No way he wouldn’t realise that the deputy was lusting after his boss’s son.

 

Jordan licked his suddenly dry lips. “We should, ah,” he coughed. “We should close this. Now.”

 

Derek’s hand convulsed on the mouse. “Yeah,” the werewolf breathed, eyes riveted on the screen. “We should.”

 

Stiles arched his back slightly, hips jerking up against the palm of his hand. He trailed the long, dexterous fingers of his other hand through the trail of dark hair leading into his briefs, circling his navel and then moving back down to play with the elastic waist of his underwear. After rolling the band down and snapping it gently against his skin, the boy moved his hand back up, this time pinching one of his nipples, eyes closing in apparent pleasure.

 

Jorden bit back a groan. He was fully erect now, standing beside Derek, his hips too close to the werewolf’s eye level for comfort. There was no hiding his reaction to the teenager.

 

The boy was obviously drawing his pleasure out. He took the hand that had been on his dick and began stroking up his inner thigh, sliding just the tips of his fingers under the material of the underwear and then withdrawing while he sucked the fingers of his other hand into his lush mouth. _Fuck_. That mouth. Jordan had spent a great deal of energy deliberately not thinking about those soft pink lips and what they would look like wrapped around-

 

Jordan heard a soft yet unmistakeable whimper next to him. He dragged his eyes from the screen and looked down at the werewolf next to him. The werewolf whose glowing eyes were glued to Stiles, whose clawed fingers were clenched around the arms of the chair with a terrible desperation. The werewolf whose huge erection was tenting his tight as fuck jeans disturbingly close to a tear. Jordan almost wished he could move that tear, place it just a little bit higher.

 

On the screen, Stiles was fucking his own mouth with his fingers, eyes closed with bliss. Jesus. This kid was going to be death of them both. He was seductive when he wasn’t even trying. Now? With his surprisingly toned slender body spread out like a feast, his obscene fingers thrusting in and out of his wet, pink lips?

 

Jordan was the one to whimper this time.

 

Derek jerked his head up and they both locked wild, shocked eyes.

 

“We should definitely close this,” Derek said, voice a deep throaty growl.

 

“Yeah,” Jordan said back, sounding just as wrecked. “We really should.”

 

They both looked at the mouse, where they both still had one hand. Neither of them moved to close the screen.

 

“It’s wrong to watch this,” Derek said, eyes pleading.

 

“So wrong,” Jordan breathed, nodding his head.

 

Neither of them moved the mouse in the direction of the little cross in the corner.

 

Apparently Stiles had had enough, because he planted his feet on the bed and arched his hips up so he could slide the briefs off. Jordan could imagine the slap his hard dick would make as it hit his stomach, the wet tip, oh god he was already leaking, the wet tip leaving a slick trail on the skin of the boy’s belly.

 

The teen gave his (probably aching) erection a few perfunctory strokes and then fished around in the sheets for, oh fuck, for a bottle of lube. Watching him pour slick onto his long digits shouldn’t have been sexy, but Jordan moved forward slightly, grinding his hips against the edge of the sheriff’s chair. The sheriff’s chair that Derek was occupying. He’d feel worse about what he was doing in front of a quasi-workmate if it wasn’t for the way the other man was grinding his palm against his groin.

 

_He’s straight_ , Jordan reminded himself. _The lube’s probably for his dick. Don’t get too excited_. He should have known better. It _was_ Stiles after all.

 

The boy’s spread legs offered the perfect view as Stiles circled one longer finger around his rim, teasing himself. God, the kid teased himself. Jordan was humping against the chair desperately just watching him.

 

Both men let out embarrassing noises as Stiles slowly, so damn slowly, sunk one finger into himself, teeth biting down on his delectable bottom lip and eyes fluttering the whole time. His hips jerked up almost immediately.

 

_Prostate_ , Jordan’s brain supplied. And finding it that easily spoke of long practice, a thought that made Jordan screw his eyes shut to keep control. Derek’s thoughts were probably along the same lines, judging by the soft moan that escaped his lips.

 

The two men watched avidly as the teen edged another finger inside, free hand leaving his upper thigh, where he’d been spreading himself open, to clench desperately at the sheet. Stiles worked the two fingers in and out, scissoring them occasionally, mainly just fucking himself, body arching up with each thrust, abs tensing and relaxing in a delicious dance.

 

His eyebrows drew down in a momentary frown as he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Parrish tensed, hoping that he wasn’t in pain or anything.

 

The deputy was just considering undoing his jeans to release his aching cock when Derek’s head snapped up from the screen. One large clawed hand came up to grab Jordan by the belt and yank him down. Jordan cursed as his knees hit the floor, not in pain (duh, invincible), but in surprise. Surprise that quickly turned to gratitude as the sheriff walked in.

 

Shit shit shit shit shit.

 

John stood in the doorway, not moving forward. And thank _fuck_. Because the desk was the only thing stopping him from finding out that two 24 year old men were currently masturbating to a videofeed of his underage son masturbating. In his office. So in other words, the desk was the only thing between the two supernatural creatures and certain death.

 

“I just got a call,” the older man sighed. “Mrs Eldridge is insisting I come personally to deal with her neighbours. They’re throwing another party.”

 

Jordan tried to school his face into the appropriate bored sympathy, a feat made difficult by the fact that Stiles had gotten up from the bed and bent over to straighten his covers, arching his gorgeous backside into the air. Neither man reacted to the very soft sound of Derek’s claws cutting through the leather of Jordan’s belt as his fist clenched convulsively. Jordan could sympathise. God, the things he wanted to do to that ass.

 

“I’ll check up on Stiles on the way back,” the sheriff informed the two men. “You boys hold down the fort.”

 

They both nodded their agreement, sighing in relief as he left the room, closing the door behind him. The blinds were already pulled, of course, seeing as Derek was there. And none of the staff would disturb them unless something major happened. Which meant they were alone with Stiles. Well, with each other and a video of Stiles. Still counted. Jordan staggered back to his feet for a better view.

 

On the screen Stiles had climbed back onto his bed on his knees, rearranging his pillows in front of him. Jordan almost swallowed his tongue as the boy leaned forward, propping his shoulders up on the pillows. God, if he’d thought the view of Stiles’ sweet ass earlier had been good…

 

Stiles shifted around a bit, obviously settling himself in for something. Something that was made brutally clear as he plucked a dildo off the bed.

 

Derek cursed under his breath and moved his hand from Jordan’s belt to the front of his jeans, where he carefully, because claws, unbuttoned and unzipped them, drawing Jordan’s cock out into the air of the office.

 

Jordan exhaled gustily at the warm dry grasp, thrusting his hips forward into the circle of Derek’s fingers. He cursed and took his hand off the mouse to lean on one of the chair’s arm rests, using his free hand to release Derek’s dick from its tight denim cage. And, shit, that thing was large. Uncut and angry red, leaking precome onto Jordan’s fingers.

 

The two men jacked each other slowly as Stiles slicked up the dildo and positioned it at his entrance. They were both grunting and cursing under their breath as Stiles slowly, so fucking slowly, pushed the dildo into his body, arching and straining as he did so. _Fuck_.

 

Derek was muttering something under his breath that Jordan couldn’t quite pick up, cock thrusting up into Jordan’s fist, face sweaty and beginning to shift.

 

Jordan wasn’t faring much better, whimpering and moaning as Derek’s hands dragged him closer and closer to the edge.

 

Stiles, though… Stiles was _beautiful_ , whole body writhing as he fucked himself almost desperately, hand flying over his cock. He’d obviously teased himself enough for one night. Watching the boy undulate his hips back to meet his own thrusts was mesmerising. Watching him lose that rhythm was even better. Jordan cursed, orgasm slamming into him out of nowhere as he spurted all over Derek’s hand, a few drops hitting the floor. And, shit, that was good. He was on his knees again and when had that happened?

 

Derek gently tugged Jordan’s limp fingers off his cock and began to jerk himself off, the motions squelching obscenely because, fuck, because his fist was coated in come. Jordan’s come.

 

And goddamn, but Jordan’s dick gave a valiant twitch at that, but the deputy was content to watch and Derek fisted himself faster, eyes glued to the screen as Stiles’ mouth dropped open even further, his stuttering hips driving him back onto the dildo and forward into his own hand.

 

Shit. Despite having come already, watching the boy’s body arch fluidly, watching the curve of his body as come sprayed onto the bedsheets… It was so fucking hot. Jordan felt like he was burning up.

 

Beside him, Derek made a cut off whine, muscles tensing up with the force of his orgasm, tendons tight on his neck, abs curling him over as he came all over his fist.

 

The two men sat shakily as Stiles gently withdrew the dildo and then collapsed on the bed, rolling onto his back and starfishing his arms. Obviously the teen didn’t care about the wet patch he was laying in, judging by the contentment radiating from him and the soft, satisfied smile that curved his lips under his closed eyes.

 

Derek reached out and grabbed the mouse, closing the window before collapsing back into the chair.

 

Jordan agreed. Now was for bathing in the afterglow. They could deal with everything else later.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles could understand why his dad was so suspicious. Really, he could. After all of the secrets and lying, it was totally expected that the man start keeping a closer eye on his wayward son. But having his afterglow ruined always made Stiles a little bit grumpy. It had been a fantastic session. One of the best he’d had since breaking up with Malia.

 

He’d had the time to really tease himself until he was desperate for it. And the empty house meant he could let loose with some noises. Lounging around naked after a really good orgasm was the best, in Stiles’ (professional) opinion. His muscles were loose and relaxed and his body was languid. There was no pressure to be moving. It was one of the few times he could be completely still. Having his dad drop in to make sure he was still at home had completely ruined that, to the point where Stiles was tempted to have another round. It’s not like his dad would be back for a while.

 

Stiles wavered. He really should sleep, but he’d almost caught up to _Game of Thrones_ as well. One more episode, he decided. He’d watch one more episode, then rub one out before bed.

 

It was decided.

 

 

 

Parrish was definitely avoiding his eyes, Derek decided. It’s not like he didn’t understand. After all, the two of them had jerked each other off to a video of their boss’s underage son masturbating. Things didn’t get much more awkward than that. He just couldn’t find the words to tell the deputy that it was okay. That anybody with a healthy amount of appreciation for the male form would have struggled to turn that video off. That bursting into flames was probably a normal reaction. Unfortunately words weren’t Derek’s strong suit, so he settled for cleaning the semen off the floor in silence and fetching some spare clothes from his car while Parrish typed up a quick report. The sheriff would be back soon, and then they could both go home and pretend this had never happened.

 

By the time the sheriff walked into his office, the two men were sipping the shitty station coffee and scrolling through Lydia’s notes on forest spirits, Derek’s clothes hanging loosely on the other man’s slightly smaller frame. John collapsed into his chair with a relieved sigh and skimmed over the report.

 

“Thanks for that, boys,” he said, apparently satisfied.

 

“It’s my job,” Parrish said, shrugging the praise off.

 

“It’s your night off,” the sheriff pointed out dryly. He was good enough to avoid commenting on the fact that the deputy frequently came in on his off days. For an attractive man, he sure didn’t have any semblance of a social life.

 

“I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to my offer, Derek?” John asked.

 

Derek winced. The sheriff had approached him with the paperwork to enrol in the academy. Apparently there was a spot in the Beacon County Sheriff Department for the werewolf anytime. While he appreciated the offer – and he did. It’d been a long time since someone cared enough to consider Derek’s future or employment prospects – he just couldn’t see himself signing up for a normal job like that. What if somebody needed him and he was working? Just last month Parrish had been caught up at a domestic in town while the pack was being tortured by hunters. It’d taken him hours to get away and then track them down. Derek couldn’t afford for that to happen with him.

 

Apparently the sheriff could read that in his face, because he sighed and shook his head.

 

“Well that’s all for tonight,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could drop in on Stiles before you go home?”

 

“Didn’t you just check up on him?” Parrish asked.

 

At least they were both confused. Sure Stiles had an almost preternatural ability to get into trouble, but checking on him twice in an hour seemed like overkill.

 

“Exactly,” the sheriff said. “He knows that I’ve checked up on him and that I probably won’t be back for a while. If he’s going to try anything, it’ll be now.”

 

Derek almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. If he didn’t know better, he’d probably join the veritable crowds of people who thought that the sheriff deserved a better son than Stiles. But he did know better. Because Stiles was one of the best men Derek had ever met. And, even though it had probably ruined their lives, he was more than a little bit relieved that it was Scott and Stiles who had been out walking in the woods when Peter had decided to bite someone.

 

“Sure.” Parrish said. “We’ll go make sure he’s still at home.”

 

Dammit. There was nothing Derek wanted less than to face down the boy after watching him masturbate. After coming to the sight of him masturbating. But there was no way they could have refused the sheriff without the man getting suspicious. At least they could both control their faces. They would just drop by, make sure the boy was there, and then leave. Hell, Derek would be able to hear him without even entering the house. Hopefully, they wouldn’t even have to look at the teenager.

 

 

 

 

Stiles was halfway through the episode when Scott texted.

 

**Spirit dead. Lydia found its alcohol stash, apparently we can get drunk off it. Come celebrate at mine.**

 

 _Awesome_. He’d be able to get drunk with his bro for the first time since all of the werewolf stuff started. This was seriously the best. He changed out of his sweats into jeans and a graphic tee, throwing on a not-too-dirty hoodie from the floor and snatching his keys off his desk. Finally, he’d be able to see drunk Scott.

 

He had his jeep halfway out the driveway before his plans were totally ruined. By a pair of sexy men in a familiar soccer mum car. Derek. And Parrish. Dammit.

 

There was no way he would be able to outrun them. His jeep just wasn’t built for that and he wasn’t going to push her, no matter how desperate he was to see drunk Scott. After cursing under his breath, just loud enough for Derek to hear, he threw the car into first gear and drove back into the driveway. Apparently that wasn’t enough for his father’s minions, because they parked across the driveway, effectively blocking him in, before getting out and wandering over to his door.

 

“Going somewhere?” Parrish asked, all gentlemanly smiles.

 

“To see my best friend drunk,” Stiles grumbled. “For what is quite possibly the only time _ever_.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes. “There’re ways for werewolves to get drunk,” he grunted grumpily. “But I’m not sharing them with underage kids.”

 

Well then. That… wasn’t actually all that surprising. _Of course_ the werewolves had worked out a way of getting drunk. Necessity is the mother of invention after all.

 

“Come on,” Parrish said, “we’ll tuck you into bed and then head home.”

 

“Or you could just tell dad that I’m safe and sound at home and not to worry,” Stiles said hopefully.

 

“We could. Or we could tell him that you were attempting to hang out with a bunch of drunk young werewolves the day before the full moon,” Derek said with a smirk.

 

And no. Stiles really did not want that to happen. So he gave in gracefully and unlocked the front door, stomping straight up the stairs to his room without waiting to see if the dynamic duo were following.

 

Apparently they were, because he only had time to sit the wrong way around on his chair, arms along the backrest, before they were walking into his bedroom. Derek paused a few steps in, nostrils flaring and _oh shit_ , Stiles had totally forgotten what he’d been doing in his bedroom earlier. Please, god, let Derek not smell that.

 

It was probably futile. Derek was probably getting a good whiff of come and lube and pleasure-related chemosignals. His eyes flared blue. Oh God. He was that angry. He was so angry at smelling Stiles’ sex smells that he was losing his iron control. Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles did not want to die now.

 

“If the smell’s too much, Derek, go downstairs,” Parrish barked. And thank fuck. At least _someone_ was on top of things. He might survive this night!

 

 

“How did you know about the smell?” Stiles asked. Wouldn’t it be just his luck to have two sexy-as-fuck men with super-sniffers smelling his come? In a decidedly not-sexy manner.

 

He didn’t expect both men to flinch. Derek flushed and avoided his eyes. Which was fine by Stiles because his ears were going a fascinating scarlet colour. Parrish’s face went bland instantly. Too bland.

 

“What happened?” Stiles asked, with a sinking feeling of horror. What if they’d come over earlier to check up on him? If Derek had done his usual lurking-at-the-window deal it was quite possible that he’d gotten an eyeful. Shit.

 

“It was an accident,” Derek growled defensively.

 

Oh shit, oh shit. He’d definitely seen something.

 

“We didn’t realise,” Parrish began uncomfortably. “I mean, we were just typing up a report.”

 

Wait. What?

 

“Didn’t realise what?” Stiles asked with narrowed eyes.

 

“That the sheriff didn’t take the cameras out of your room,” Parrish muttered.

 

Stiles dropped his burning face onto his arms. Please, God, let him sink into the ground and die.

 

“So you saw? You saw me, um… well, I mean…” he started. Well done, Stiles! So eloquent!

 

“Yeah, well, ah… yeah. We saw you,” Parrish said, just as awkwardly.

 

A quick peek showed that Derek was red from his ears to his clavicle and even Parrish had a ruddy blush along his cheekbones.

 

“What did you see?” Stiles asked. “Did I still have underwear on?”

 

Please God let him have still been in his underwear. The butt stuff hadn’t started until after it came off. He didn’t think he could ever talk to either of them again if they’d seen the butt stuff.

 

“You did when we first saw,” Derek muttered.

 

“You saw more than once?!” Stiles choked.

 

“Well, Derek didn’t close the window,” Parrish said.

 

Stiles almost swallowed his own tongue. Holy shit. They hadn’t just seen him. They’d _watched_ him.

 

“Your hand was also on the mouse,” Derek hissed at Parrish. “You could have closed it.”

 

What? Jesus fucking Christ, were they saying what he thought they were saying?

 

“While your claws were out?” Parrish snapped back. “I didn’t want you to lose control.”

 

“I’m not the one who got so turned on he _spontaneously combusted_!” Derek snarled.

 

While the men were focused on each other, Stiles took the opportunity to swing his chair around so he was sitting the right way on it. What if he-? No way. Could he? How would they react?

 

“So what you’re saying,” Stiles said loudly over their bickering, “is that neither one of you closed the video?”

 

Both men looked ashamed. At least they knew just how very bad it was to watch someone’s private moments without his permission. But Stiles found himself not caring too much. All he could think of was what they must have looked like as they watched him. Had they touched themselves? Had they touched _each other_? And, _fuck_ , but that mental image. Stiles was so hard now. So very hard.

 

“You’re saying,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread wide, one hand rucking his shirt up to flick at his nipple, “that neither one of you,” and now his other hand tugging at the hairs just under his navel, “could look away.” He dropped his hand from his happy trail to palm his erect cock, throwing his head back and letting out a soft moan, eyes heavy lidded as he gauged their reactions.

 

Derek was hard. He could see that easily through the man’s tight jeans. The werewolf didn’t even seem to notice as he absently rubbed himself, eyes hungry, glowing, and glued to Stiles. It was such a rush, knowing that this man, this powerful, snarly, _hot as fucking burning_ , man was that into him. That he had that much control over a born freaking werewolf.

 

Parrish wasn’t faring much better. Both of his hands were fisted at his sides as his avid gaze tracked over the teenager, flitting from his parted lips to his hard nipples to the rigid line of his erection where it was framed by his long delicate fingers.

 

“So,” Stiles began, heart racing nervously as he stripped his shirt off, “what _exactly_ caught your attention?”

 

It seemed ridiculous that he was being seductive, that awkward, lanky _Stiles Stilinski_ could seduce two of the sexiest men in the county just by taking his shirt off. Derek licked his lips and stumbled forward, eyes locked on the boy. He collapsed to his knees between Stiles’ legs, running his hands from the teen’s knees and down the inside of his thighs, spreading him even further. Stiles whimpered as the werewolf leaned down and nosed his inner thigh, inhaling deeply and god fucking dammit he was _smelling_ Stiles and that shouldn’t be hot, but the human’s erection twitched anyway.

 

Holy god, Derek was undoing his jeans, the _whirr_ of the zipper making his eyes fall half closed. This was really happening. And Parrish was approaching, eyes _burning_ and hungry. It was almost as if they’d planned it, the way Parrish walked behind the chair and leaned over it to haul Stiles up, holding the weight of the young man easily as Derek stripped his jeans and briefs off, leaving him naked and vulnerable compared to their fully clothed bodies.

 

Parrish sank back onto the chair, sitting Stiles on his lap, his chest pressing up against the boy’s naked back. Stiles could feel the every shift of his muscle through the thin t-shirt, warm skin radiating heat at the human.

 

Derek reached out and spread Stiles wide, hooking his knees over Parrish’s thighs so that he was exposed to the room. The wolf then paused and sat back on his heels, eyes roving all over Stiles.

 

 

 

 _Fuck_ , Derek thought. The kid was spread wide and open, long muscular legs covered in creamy skin and dark hair, silky soft inner thighs exposed. He looked debauched, hectic flush on his cheeks, hair messy and wild, eyes half lidded and effortlessly seductive. Just like that mouth. That fucking mouth. The amount of time Derek had dedicated to _not_ noticing that mouth, the way it was always open, the pink tongue that would flick out and wet those lips… It was a toss up whether Derek wanted Stiles’ mouth or his swollen little hole. Parrish had already murmured that he didn’t mind either way, the man’s voice sounding tight as he muttered so quietly that only Derek could hear.

 

Speaking of Parrish, the other man made eye contact with Derek over Stiles’ shoulder, jerking his head towards the bed in question. Derek tapped his wrist in response – not yet. The deputy grinned into Stiles’ neck, beginning to suck biting marks on the kid’s collarbone as Derek stroked his thumb along the sensitive skin at the crease between thigh and groin. It was a tease, the repetitive caresses designed to make the boy squirm. And he did, hips jerking helplessly as he tried to get some relief, Parrish catching his hands before he could touch himself and making him place them on the back edges of the seat, so that his arms passed under Parrish’s. Derek leaned forward to hide his smile as he gently nipped the boy’s inner thighs, using both hands to still those slender hips.

 

Stiles choked out a whimper as Parrish trailed gentle fingers in circles around his nipples, never actually touching. The man had obviously caught onto the plan to torment the boy because those featherlight touches had Stiles _writhing_ and making desperate little high pitched noises.

 

Derek paused and checked the kid’s heartrate, satisfying himself that Stiles wasn’t actually in pain, that he was just playing his role in the scene they’d built. God, but he could take direction in this situation, unlike any time outside of the bedroom. Knowing that _Stiles_ , smart and sassy Stiles, with his quick and clever mind, was willingly surrendering his control to Derek, to Parrish… Well, Derek’s cock was throbbing almost painfully, he was so turned on. The werewolf had never been this aroused.

 

He deserved to be rewarded, Derek decided, leaning in and blowing cool air across the head of his erection. Stiles _grunted_ , hips flexing desperately against Derek’s hands. Parrish chuckled into Stiles’ shoulder, and when had the deputy taken his shirt off?

 

Derek flicked his tongue out and drew it up Stiles’ shaft, drawing a string of curses out of the human. Parrish slipped two fingers into the boy’s mouth, gently commanding him to suck, effectively silencing him as he closed his mouth around the digits with a wet slurping noise, _fuck_.

 

As Parrish stroked over Stiles’ nipples with wet fingers, Derek leaned forward and swallowed him down, teasing at the underside with his tongue and pulling out all of the tricks. Stiles whined, a high desperate noise sounding like it had been punched out of his throat. Derek smirked around the kid’s cock, bobbing his head a few times before pulling off.

 

Parrish shot him a questioning look from where he was nibbling over Stiles’ pulse point. Derek smirked in response, tightening his grip on Stiles’ hips and jerking the boy off Parrish’s lap and into his own, grinding their cocks together. Stiles, typically, flailed at the sudden movement, catching Derek’s shoulders to steady himself as the werewolf took full advantage of his strength to support the kid’s weight with just his hands.

 

Parrish strode over to the bed, losing the rest of his clothing on the way. Once the deputy was settled against the headboard, legs spread slightly, Derek slid to his feet, jerking the kid up with him and spinning him around. While he was off balance, the werewolf manhandled him onto the bed and shoved him forward so that he caught himself on his hands and knees, face inches away from Parrish’s erect cock.

 

Derek took his own shirt off, but left his jeans on as he slid onto the bed behind the boy. It took some pushing and shoving, but eventually they had Stiles right where they wanted him, on his knees, torso between Parrish’s legs, arms hooked over the deputy’s thighs and hands gripping his hips as he mouthed at the erection in front of him.

 

The lube was exactly where Stiles had put it in the video earlier, sitting open on the nightstand. Derek snatched it up, taking a moment to note that it was a quality brand, and then slicked the fingers of one hand up. He used his free hand to hold Stiles open as he slowly eased one finger into the kid’s tight entrance.

 

Stiles moaned, causing Parrish to thump his head back against the headboard and curse. Derek took a moment to note that Stiles was putting that mouth of his to good use, bobbing up and down on the man’s cock with a teasing slowness, before he edged another finger into the boy, scissoring and curling his digits, deliberately avoiding the kid’s prostate.

 

Fuck, but he was hot. Slick and warm and tight. So tight. He was going to feel amazing. It was taking all of Derek’s control to take the time to prepare him, to not just fuck him open. _It’s his first time_ , Derek reminded himself. First time with a man, first time taking it. And thank fuck he fingered himself earlier, because slipping that third finger in had Derek’s cock so hard he thought his jeans might actually tear with the pressure. The werewolf was not going to be able to go slow with this.

 

Stiles pulled off Parrish’s cock and pressed his face into the man’s thigh, gasping, as Derek finally edged over his prostate. The desperate whine that he made was _beautiful_ and Derek took a moment to admire the view, the lithe body with its creamy white skin and smattering of freckles and moles. Stiles was gorgeous, one of the most attractive men Derek had ever seen, not in the muscle-laden way that seemed so popular but in the simple elegance of his body. The stretch of his neck, smooth and pale and muscular, the gentle curve of his waist, the taught globes of his buttocks. He was lanky, sure, stretched out, but not overly so. Not too skinny. Just… _perfect_.

 

Parrish seemed to feel the same, Derek noted, watching with slight jealousy as the other man stroked fingers through the boy’s sex-messy hair, ran a soothing palm down the soft stretch of his back.

 

Apparently unhappy with the lack of movement from Derek, Stiles chose to roll his hips, body undulating as he fucked himself back on his fingers. And _fuck_. That was, fuck, that was sexy. Derek took his free hand from where it had been holding the kid open and popped his jeans open and slicked his cock up. Thank god he’d taken his come-stained briefs off earlier, because all he had to do to free himself was pop the buttons and shove the denim down. He withdrew his fingers one at a time, pausing to rub gentle circles just around the teen’s entrance, a teasing pressure.

 

Stiles groaned around Parrish’s cock, causing the other man’s eyes to flutter. Seemed the kid was just as good with his mouth as Derek had imagined. The thought had him nudging his own erection against Stiles’ entrance, not pushing for entrance, just teasing, enjoying the flutter as the kid’s muscles tried to draw him in, holding his hips still when he tried to fuck himself back onto Derek’s dick.

 

Stiles whined and pulled off Parrish with an obscene pop.

 

“Please,” he begged, eyes wide and blown. “Please, please, please. Please fuck me, Derek. _Please_.”

 

Derek gasped and pushed forward, moaning as he slid into Stiles’ body. Jesus fucking Christ, he was tight. Too tight. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ back, forcing himself to stop moving as he ran gentle hands up and down the boy’s back. Parrish seemed to pick up on what was happening, because he was stroking the kid’s neck and shoulders soothingly, murmuring gentle words to where Stiles had buried his face in the crease between the man’s thigh and his hips. After a few moments, the vice like grip around Derek’s cock relaxed and he pushed forward again, grunting as he bottomed out.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“So good,” he told Stiles, flexing slightly to feel the slow drag of the hot, slick, _tight_ channel around his dick. “You feel so fucking good.”

 

Stiles whimpered underneath him and rocked his hips, coaxing Derek into a slow rhythm. The werewolf hadn’t been lying. He felt so amazing, so fucking incredible. It was all too easy to pull back faster, further, enjoying the delicious friction, and to thrust harder into that tight little ass. Derek tightened his grip on the kid, forcefully dragging him back into the thrusts, slamming into that body until the only thing in Derek’s mind was the orgasm he was working towards, waxing fuller and fuller.

 

 

 

Jesus _fuck_ , but Derek felt good. Stiles couldn’t keep up with him, could only be pulled where the werewolf wanted him by those huge hands, fingers clamped so hard around Stiles’ waist that he could feel the bruises forming. It was amazing. Better than anything he’d imagined.

 

He sucked a hard biting mark on Parrish’s thigh, enjoying the sound of the man gritting out his name. Time to show the deputy what a teenage boy could learn from the internet.

 

 

 

Holy shit. Jordan cursed, tightening his grip in Stiles’ hair as the boy did everything he could to drive him crazy. The human was bobbing his head perfectly, sliding his tongue along the underside and applying pressure to that little ridge just beneath the head. The crack of the wood behind him barely registered as his body arched slightly, hips jerking reflexively. Shit. He pulled back immediately, ready to apologise, but Stiles stared up at him with eyes blown wide, probably from the _insane_ pace Derek was setting. God, Jordan couldn’t wait to get his turn at the kid’s ass. The look on Derek’s face…

 

It took a few tugs on his hips for Jordan to notice Stiles was pulling at him, bobbing harder. And shit, was he asking what Jordan thought he was asking? Jordan flexed his muscles, moving his hips up, thrusting softly into Stiles’ mouth. The kid let out an approving moan, tugging harder.

 

 _Jesus_. Jordan fucked up slightly harder, frowning. It wasn’t a good angle for this… He hesitated before rocking to his knees, moving Stiles into position so he could fuck the teenager’s mouth. Stiles made _happy_ noises, moaning like it was the best thing ever.

 

They very quickly fell into a rhythm, Derek dragging Stiles back to meet his thrusts, Stiles undulating his hips and dragging his mouth up Jordan’s cock. As Derek pulled out, he pushed Stiles away, the kid’s mouth sliding down on the deputy until Jordan was cursing. Shit, but he could feel the human’s throat constricting around the tip of his cock. It was incredible. And he wasn’t going to last. Not with Stiles flattening his tongue on the underside and angling his head fucking perfectly. Not with that friction. And especially not with Derek quickening the pace.

 

It was the hottest thing Jordan had ever seen, the werewolf slamming into Stiles. Derek’s muscles rippled with every thrust, desperate grunts escaping his mouth, eyes glowing blue, the slap of his hard flesh against Stiles’ backside making the younger man arch with a natural seductiveness. God, he never wanted it to stop.

 

“Stiles,” he gasped to the teen, “I’m close. I’m really close. I’m gonna, gonna- _Stiles_!”

 

The kid didn’t stop, just increased his suction, bobbing enthusiastically. With a desperate noise that he would be embarrassed about later, Jordan came, spilling into Stiles’ mouth, sucking in a harsh breath as the teasing little brat _swallowed_ it.

 

Stiles looked up and met his eyes, the kid smirking and deliberately licking his lips as if he were savouring every last drop. Jordan went to collapse back, but Stiles caught at his shoulder weakly.

 

“Not when you’re on fire,” the human groaned, still arching back to meet Derek’s thrusts.

 

Jordan couldn’t understand what he meant, but his eyes were drawn to Stiles’ hard cock, bobbing between the teen’s legs. Derek looked to out of it to finish Stiles off, so Jordan reached out and gave the kid a channel to thrust into, closing his fingers around the boy’s throbbing erection.

 

It only took two thrusts before Stiles came, muscles locking tight as he shouted his climax out, come wetting the sheets beneath them.

 

Derek groaned and mouthed at the human’s back, hard thrusts pushing him across the bed. He was shivering, muscles convulsing beneath his skin, back beginning to arch. Jordan knew the moment he came, from the sudden tensing of his muscles, the sudden stillness of his body as he thrust into Stiles and stayed there, whimpering, the way he collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.

 

Jordan helped pull him off Stiles, laying him down on the bed as they arranged themselves in a sleepy huddle.

 

 

 

Derek had never come so hard in his life. He’d actually felt like his brains had erupted out of his dick as he’d pumped Stiles full of come. _Stiles_. The werewolf forced himself up, to find that Parrish was already wiping the teenager clean, taking a moment to inspect him for damage.

 

“You two feel up to moving off the bed?” the deputy asked. “I think we should change the sheets.”

 

Stiles groaned and stood up, hobbling like an old man. Derek, on the other hand, felt shaky like a newborn deer, legs trembling in the short distance it took for him to collapse on Stiles’ desk chair. Parrish dumped the human into his lap before padding out of the room, still deliciously naked.

 

“Nice view,” Stiles drawled, eliciting a brief butt wiggle from the other man.

 

Derek snorted and buried his nose in the messy brown hair in front of him, wrinkling it slightly at the smell of the product in it, but enjoying the Stiles scent beneath it. They both watched lazily as Parrish made the bed up, throwing the dirty sheets into a pile on the floor.

 

“Why am I getting the feeling you didn’t come as hard as us?” Stiles asked. “I’m feeling like I didn’t do my job properly.”

 

Parrish snickered and helped him up, supporting him over to the bed and tucking him in.

 

“No, seriously,” Stiles said. “If my ass wasn’t so sore I would be offering it to you. I feel bad.”

 

“You have nothing to feel bad for,” Parrish said, smoothing his hair back off his face. “It was amazing. The best blow job I’ve ever had. The best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

 

“Well next time you can get some ass action,” Stiles declared. “Just not for a while.”

 

“Yours isn’t the only available ass in this room,” the deputy drawled, shooting Derek a quick look.

 

And, wow. That was quite an offer. Derek wouldn’t mind that, having Parrish on top of him, _inside_ him.

 

A funny noise broke out of Stiles’ throat. “Oh my God,” the human muttered. “If you do that, please film it. You both owe me a naughty video.”

 

Derek choked out a laugh. Wasn’t that just like Stiles? An eye for an eye. Or in this case, a pornographic video for a pornographic video. He met Parrish’s nonverbal question with the slightest of nods. Yes. They would do that.

 

“Now are you guys going to snuggle me, or what?!” Stiles continued. “Just so you know, I always get the middle of the bed.”

 

Parrish rolled his eyes and muttered “bossy” under his breath so only Derek could hear it. The werewolf snorted and shoved his jeans the rest of the way off, climbing across Stiles and collapsing onto the bed. He smiled into the teen’s shoulder as Parr- Jordan took the other side. After all, if they were going to keep doing this, they should be on a first name basis. And from what Derek could tell, this was definitely not a one time deal.

 

He looked forward to it

 

 

 

Sheriff John Stilinski had tidied up the report about the dead spirit and confiscated most of Scott’s alcohol before finding out that the alpha had invited his son over for some partying. Ah, well. He’d sent Parrish and Hale over 10 minutes ago and a quick drive by showed the jeep blocked in by Hale’s car. Nothing to worry about.

 

Everything was well when he returned to work. Unless… Unless those three had all gone haring off together? It was a ridiculous assumption. But, c’mon, a man should be allowed to be paranoid after the events of the past few months. He needed to keep an eye on his son, after all.

 

He could drive back over, or… John knew that leaving the cameras around the house was a pretty massive breach of trust. He’d avoided looking at them since the nogitsune had been trapped. But surely one peek wouldn’t hurt? After all, if Parrish and Hale were there then Stiles wasn’t doing anything too embarrassing. What trouble could Stiles get into with those two?

 

Decision made, he clicked on the icon on the desktop, pulling the videofeed of Stiles’ room up and-

 

John stared for a shocked moment at the tangled mass of limbs before hastily clicking out. He stared in silence at his desktop screen for a few more moments before scrubbing his face with his hands.

 

“Aw, _hell_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parrish gets an unpleasant surprise at the Sheriff's Department, and Derek decides to visit Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! First of all, thank you so much for all of the comments, they are literally the only reason there is more of this. This is just a short chapter to tide you over - I'm working on a longer one now, but I'm not sure when it'll get posted because real life is a meanie. I'm not working on any posting schedule - I've got a whole host of mental health disorders and don't want to be stressing over deadlines - but I will absolutely be continuing this fic, so don't be too worried and I'm sorry for the wait.
> 
> Every chapter will have porn. This is my promise to you.

Jordan Parrish never sped. He was a deputy, sworn to uphold the law, and as such, he would never break it while he could help it. No matter how tempting it was. Even if he were running late for work. Even if he were running late for work because he’d fallen asleep in the bed of his boss’s underage son after a round of fantastic sex. No. Jordan wouldn’t speed, despite being very, very tempted.

 

_Two minutes late_ , he thought as he hurried into the station. Standing in the foyer, eyebrows raised, was one Sheriff John Stilinski. He didn’t look impressed.

 

“Sorry!” Jordan blurted to the sheriff, disliking that look on the man’s face.

 

“For what?” John asked mildly.

 

“For, ah, for running late.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about _that_ ,” the sheriff said, turning and walking into his office, a clear signal for Jordan to follow.

 

The deputy really didn’t like the emphasis his boss had put on ‘ _that_ ’, as if there were something else he might need to be sorry for.

 

“Sir?” he asked tentatively.

 

“This is your first time being late,” the man said, sitting at his chair. “Everyone has a day like that,” the sheriff continued. “And a few minutes isn’t really something to worry about considering all of the overtime you’ve been pulling. After all, you did have a late night.”

 

Jordan flinched, guilty. _Shit_. How did he know? How had he-? Why wasn’t he doing something? Something involving a great deal of agony.

 

“The necromancer,” the sheriff prompted, eyes sharp. “You had a late night with the necromancer.”

 

“Oh! Ah- yes. Right. Of course, the necromancer.”

 

Oh god. That was so obvious. How was he being this obvious? Jordan was an exemplary liar when the occasion called for it.

 

“And then Stiles,” the man continued.

 

Shit shit shit shit shit. He did know! How was Jordan even alive right now?

 

“I appreciate your checking up on him,” the sheriff said, picking up a file off the desk and starting to flick through it. “I’m sure you kept him out of trouble.”

 

Right! The sheriff had _asked_ them to check up on him. There was no way he could know about what they had all done. Could he?

 

“It’s no trouble,” Jordan choked out. “I also want him safe.”

 

Was a lack of filter contagious? If so, Jordan had definitely caught it off Stiles. He hadn’t meant for that last bit to slip out. The sheriff’s eyes were sharp as he examined the deputy thoroughly, mouth tightening slightly.

 

“I’ve got you on a speed trap today,” John said. “Go check in with Tara and then head out.”

 

“Yessir.”

 

As he climbed into the cruiser, he took the time to shoot off a quick text. So maybe the sheriff didn’t know. He still owed a certain grumpy werewolf a warning. After all, Derek wasn’t as invincible as Jordan. And if the sheriff knew what they’d done with, and to, his only son, there was a world of hurt coming for them.

 

 

 

There was nothing Sheriff John Stilinksi cared about more than his son. Which is why he’d spent the early hours of the morning loading wolfsbane bullets into a clip and trying to work out exactly what would cause Parrish an acceptable level of agony. He had been more than ready to put aside the respect he’d built up for the two men, more than ready to deal out some revenge for his boy’s undoubtedly broken heart.

 

He’d been ready until his son had dropped breakfast off, smiling a cheerful open smile that hadn’t made an appearance since the nogitsune. And after that… well, law aside, anything that made his son happy was something the sheriff would encourage.

 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a bit of fun with it.

 

 

 

Weekends were the best, in Stiles’ opinion. He’d woken up early, coated in sweat and… other fluids, in desperate need of a shower and dangerously close to overheating. Werewolves ran at a higher temperature than humans, and Parrish was some sort of fire monster. The result of this was one very hot human.

 

At least his dad was happy, he reflected. He’d gotten up in time to take in some breakfast – pancakes, bacon and French toast, because he was seriously awesome and everyone should love him. And then he’d gone back home, curled up under his nice fresh sheets – alone – and gone back to sleep.

 

Which left him in that delicious half awake stage, where he could doze lightly in bed and enjoy the feel of cotton against his bare skin and erect cock. He smiled lazily and stretched languidly, kicking the blankets off enough to begin teasing himself. It was a miracle he was even hard, considering the night he’d had, but the vast multitude of images he’d added to his spank bank meant he was more than willing to take care of business. Slowly.

 

 

 

Derek stared at his phone hopefully. Nope, the message was still there. God had not answered his prayers. Which was typical of God, Derek had learnt.

 

**Heads up, I think the sheriff knows.**

 

Brief and to the point. Did Parrish learn that in the army or was it natural? And if he didn’t think about the problem would it go away? Probably not.

 

Derek thudded his head against the table. Just his luck. He’d finally began to get settled in, to build some semblance of a life and family for the first time in years, and one night of pleasure had ruined it all. The werewolf was under no illusions. There was no way anybody would be happy with what they’d done. After all, Stiles was… Stiles. Brilliant, loyal, brave and so, so strong. And Derek was broken, with enough emotional baggage to sink a battleship and no idea how to even begin caring about somebody again. When it came right down to it, Stiles deserved better, had always deserved better, which was probably why Lydia was contenting herself with longing looks rather than making a move, why Malia had moved away with Peter rather than stay in a town with a pack that disliked her. Derek couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave Beacon Hills. Which meant he was going to have to go and talk to Stiles about his _feelings_ , something guaranteed to be arduous, humiliating and painful.

 

He donned his jacket like it was armour and scooped his keys up. Braced for rejection, Derek headed out.

 

 

 

Being naked and aroused was pretty damn stimulating all on its own. Stiles let the cool air of the room wash over him, deliberately spreading his legs so he could feel it _everywhere_. With his dad undoubtedly asleep, he had all the time in the world to draw things out, so he slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, using his saliva to wet his nipples, making them pebble in the cold air. Gentle touches on his throat and stomach turned into strokes down the curve of his waist and the massage of thumbs at the joint between legs and hips, just as Derek had done the night before. Thinking of Derek, the way he’d stroked and teased, had Stiles biting on one arm to muffle his groan. God, but he wished the werewolf would show up. Wished he would slide through his window and see Stiles… The mental image was so vivid that he swore he could hear the snick of the window as it opened.

 

 

 

Derek hadn’t been listening for Stiles when he scaled the house, more interested in making sure the sheriff was asleep after his night shift. Which is why it took him by surprise when he swung into the boy’s room and found him stretched out on his bed, naked. Stiles’ eyes were closed, the long lashes dark against his pale skin, his mouth was slightly parted, and his body was taught, long, elegant neck stretched, tendons visible just under the pale, mole-dotted skin.

 

The werewolf almost swallowed his tongue. Holy shit. Fuck, but the kid was sexy. He couldn’t stop the funny noise that was ripped out of his throat. Stiles’ eyes flew open.

 

“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Derek blurted.

 

“Well yeah,” the teenager snarked, “but then I woke up and started _remembering_ last night. Remembering what you did to me.” His eyelids lowered and his mouth softened, looking lush.

 

Jesus fuck, the kid was _smoldering_. Derek was here to talk to him, dammit, not to- to. His mouth went dry as Stiles palmed himself, amber eyes glittering under his lashes as he slowly stroked himself, legs splayed wide.

 

“We need to talk,” he blurted. Stiles’s mouth tightened for a second, a flicker of movement, so subtle that Derek wouldn’t have noticed it if he wasn’t so attuned to the kid. But, then, Derek was learning that about Stiles. That all of his overt emotion was hiding his real feelings, like hiding a tree in the forest.

 

“Okay,” Stiles said, easily.

 

And, really? It was that simple? Since when did Stiles listen to-

 

“I’ll just finish up with this,” the kid said, slowly stroking his erection. “Feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

 

Derek almost groaned. Of fucking course the kid hadn’t just given up. It was Stiles. Seemed inevitable that he’d get what he wanted.

 

The brat looked away, focusing hazy eyes on the ceiling as he slowly stroked, lazily and unhurried.

 

_Just like last time_ , Derek thought, and then quashed the swell of arousal he felt at remembering what had happened last time he’d seen Stiles like this. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his swollen cock, the denim almost painfully constricting.

 

Clenching his hands to stop himself from touching, Derek stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the chair. While he had enough self-restraint not to touch, if only barely, not looking wasn’t even an option. Not with the way, Stiles drew one leg up and slowly stroked his free hand over his slim hips and flat stomach. He must have been reading about werewolves, because he bypassed his nipples in favour of playing with his collarbone, long digits drawing attention to the stretch of his neck. Derek had to stifle the growl that was building in his throat.

 

Almost of its own volition, Derek’s hand moved down to rub at his cock through his jeans, rearranging it to remove some of the pressure. He looked back at Stiles to find the kid’s attention locked onto his groin.

 

Stiles’ tongue flicked out to lick at his lips as he stared hungrily.

 

Jesus, _fuck_.

 

Derek leaned back to undo his zipper and button, ruthlessly suppressing the smile that tugged his lips at Stiles’ quick intake of air. Sometimes being a werewolf was a good thing. Particularly now, as his every breath brought Stiles’ scent to him – familiar, comforting and so very arousing, still carrying the scent of Derek under the smell of soap and shampoo.

 

Giving in to the inevitable, Derek shoved his briefs down just enough to release his cock to the open air of the room. He caught Stiles’ eyes and beckoned the younger man over with a jerk of his head.

 

 

 

Stiles could have died a happy man. For all that he was the stereotypical geeky sidekick, the Xander to Scott’s Buffy, he could, apparently, seduce one of the most attractive men he had ever met. That excitement may have contributed to the way he flailed across the room, catching one foot on the back of the other and only being saved from a nosedive to the floor by Derek’s quick reflexes.

 

The werewolf caught him easily – hooray for werewolves and their superstrength! – hauling him up and into his lap. Stiles scowled as he tried to squirm into a comfortable position with Derek’s fly pressing against some very sensitive areas.

 

Derek smirked and used one hand on Stiles’ buttocks to haul the boy up his body, supporting the lanky teenager easily as he used his free hand to quickly strip his jeans down past his knees. Stiles cursed and grabbed onto two muscular shoulders for dear life. Freaking werewolves.

 

Still, he wasn’t complaining as the man lowered him back into his lap so their erections pressed together. Stiles breath caught as Derek smiled up at him, one hand lazily massaging the teen’s ass. He looked… glorious. Their eyes caught and held.

 

This wasn’t like the hard rutting of the night before. Then, he hadn’t been sure what was happening, had been lonely and high on the idea of sex with two hot men. Now, though, he’d had time to think about things, time to realise that he didn’t want just a physical relationship. With that in mind he caught Derek’s hands and held them, lacing their fingers together as he leaned down and gently brushed his lips along the older man’s

 

Derek inhaled and then gently, so very gently, returned the kiss so that they were just brushing lips, over and over, pausing occasionally to breathe the same air.

 

It was Stiles who snapped first, sliding his fingers from Derek’s and pulling back so he could watch as he gently traced over the eyebrows of the other man. His touch was soft and almost reverent. How many times had he seen those hairy caterpillars drawn down in anger or crumpled in confusion? And now, now he got to touch.

 

Derek’s eyes were softer than he had ever seen them as he leaned forward to trail his lips down Stiles’ throat. Stiles worked on tugging the werewolf’s shirt off as the urgency began to build back up.

 

Gentle trailing lips turned into open-mouthed bites as Derek’s hand began to roam down Stiles’ body, one learning the topography of the boy’s back as the other stroked pectorals and abs. They hadn’t taken time for this the night before, the wonder of discovering a lover’s body.

 

Stiles felt something warm and large and slightly uncomfortable ignite in his torso.

 

 

 

Derek sucked a dark mark onto the pale skin on Stiles’ neck, hiding his eyes so the teenager didn’t see the emotion in it. Christ, but Derek had never had sex like this. Slow, sensuous and filled with love. Stiles made him feel like he was worth something, like all of the blood and ash on his hands could be washed away with something better.

 

He shivered as the human traced gentle fingers over his cheekbones and leaned in, so that all Derek could see was the gentle stretch of his chest and the sharp definition of his collarbone. The press of lips against the top of his head was achingly gentle. Derek closed his eyes and let out a shuddery breath.

 

Stiles moved his hands, those surprisingly large, unexpectedly dexterous, shockingly capable hands to cradle the werewolf’s face. The kiss was warm and sweet and slow.

 

When the boy arched his back and rolled his hips down, Derek gasped into his mouth. They set a slow pace, just rocking against each other, pressing kisses and smiles into each other’s skin.

 

It felt like a moment out of time. All of the blood and fear and pain, the anger and the rage and the loss, it had no place here. As if they had stolen this for themselves, walked away from the darkness that plagued them, and they could lose themselves in better things. Things like laughter, as Stiles went to kiss Derek and headbutted him, as Derek choked out a high-pitched whimper. Things like pleasure, as sweat-slick skin slid against sweat-slick skin. Things like love, not necessarily romantic, but the kind of love that springs up on battlefields, the love that comes from risking life and limb for each other, from standing together against the darkness.

 

Even as they picked up the pace, it stayed sweet. For the first time, Derek could understand why people called it making love. And when Stiles came, muscles going taught, muffling his groan in the curve of Derek’s shoulder, the werewolf thought that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It took him by surprise, sending him over the edge, sinking human teeth into the fragile skin just over the teen’s pulse.

 

They panted together for a moment, heaving torsos brushing with every inhale. Then Stiles started laughing, a pure and joyous sound. How long had it been since he’d laughed like that? Certainly not since Derek had met him. By then he’d already been damaged, holding his sarcasm like a shield against the world. The werewolf groaned.

 

No matter how stupid it was, no matter how many people would hate him, no matter that it made him sick to think of the look that would be on the sheriff’s face, he’d made his decision.

 

He was keeping Stiles.

 

After the previous year, it wasn’t all that surprising that hearing the grind of someone opening his son’s window had Sheriff Stilinski reaching for his gun. Not wanting to alert a potentially supernatural creature, he moved slowly, as soundlessly as possible, trying to keep his heartrate steady and even. He’d just collected the clip of wolfsbane bullets and was easing towards the door of his bedroom when he heard it.

 

A moan.

 

Oh. _Oh_. It didn’t take a genius to work out exactly what – and who – had snuck into his son’s bedroom. He repressed a sigh.

 

_Remember how happy he was_ , he reminded himself as he crept back into bed. That didn’t stop him from resolving to have a long discussion with the kid as soon as possible.

 

He crammed his pillow over his head and tried to go to sleep. It was an indeterminate amount of time later when he carefully lifted the pillow off his head.

 

No noises.

 

Sighing with relief, the sheriff fluffed his pillow and lay back.

 

Until a sudden burst of laughter surprised him. He froze. Stiles hadn’t sounded like that… well, it had been a very long time.

 

Maybe letting this continue wasn’t the worst decision he could have made.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parrish gets ready to chat to Stiles, but things get a little bit off track...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have this headcanon that Parrish didn’t have the best childhood. He was in the army (which is more common in the children from low socio-economic areas), he hasn’t mentioned any family and didn’t seem to need to consider anything like that when he was choosing where to live. More telling, he seems to have a need to please the sheriff and looks up to him as a father-ish figure. I think that’s important.
> 
> Otherwise, thank you all for the wonderful comments. You've made me so happy and I'm really glad that people are enjoying what I write.
> 
> Thanks to njflkf, whose comment about the sheriff teasing the boys has added a lot to this fic.
> 
> Big thanks to my beautiful wife, who constantly encourages me to write more porn. Luv ya, Cherry Pie <3

Doing a dawn-‘til-dusk shift was bad enough. Doing it after a sleepness night was just plain stupidity. Parrish sighed as he filled out all of the paperwork, waiting for his relief to turn up. Haigh’s replacement, while less brutal and, hopefully, less murderous than his predecessor, wasn’t much for punctuality. Or hard work. Or following orders. Or any of the skills that Jordan had come to value during his time in the army. Still, at least he probably wouldn’t try to kill him. That was always a bonus.

 

After finally escaping, he desperately checked his phone. A message from an unknown number.

 

**Will come over after your shift to discuss. Stiles x**

 

Parrish blinked and then, furtively, saved the number. It wasn’t _that_ suspicious. Especially considering the supernatural shenanigans that the two were involved in. At least, that would be his excuse to the sheriff if it ever came up.

 

The deputy sighed as he started down the street to his apartment. Living near the station had been a good move for somebody who didn’t even have a car. Buying one was too big of an expense, in Jordan’s opinion. He’d never had many luxuries as a child, and hadn’t ever felt the need to spend his money just for convenience. As a deputy, he had the cruiser anyway.

 

The result of his frugal – yes he admitted to being a tad tightfisted – outlook was the small cubicle he called home, a little studio apartment that would be almost impossible to live in if he had more than the bare basics. It was a little disconcerting that Stiles hadn’t asked for his address. Sure, he could have asked the sheriff, but Jordan had heard enough stories about the teen to suspect that the information had been gained through less legal means.

 

He fully expected the kid to be waiting in the hallway when he arrived – he was, after all, late. But there was nothing. Huh. Maybe he was planning on coming a bit later, Jordan mused as he struggled with the stiff lock on the door. Sounded a little too… polite… for Stiles, but-

 

The door swung open to reveal the apartment. And Stiles. Who was standing in the kitchen stirring something in a skillet. Something that smelled good.

 

Somehow, he wasn’t even surprised.

 

“How’d you get in?” he asked, taking off his belt and hanging it up on its hook.

 

“Places as cheap as this don’t usually have the best security,” Stiles drawled, shaking something into the pan.

 

“So you’re some kind of security expert?” Jordan shot back, stung, as he sat on the couch and worked on the tough laces of his boots. The place might not be much, but it was his.

 

“Only when I need to be,” Stiles prevaricated.

 

The deputy shook his head and lined his boots up next to the door, tossing the dirty socks into the laundry hamper without looking.

 

“You’ve got just enough time for a shower before dinner,” Stiles informed him.

 

Jordan took the suggestion for what it was: an order. He headed for the bathroom, snagging a pair of sweats on his way.

 

The warm water was amazing as it washed away the grime from a long day at work. Jordan washed quickly but thoroughly, pausing to spend some extra time between his legs. He didn’t really want to examine the reason why, not when it involved his boss’s underage son and things that might be forgiven once but certainly wouldn’t be acceptable as an ongoing thing.

 

When he walked into the main room, feeling refreshed, Stiles was setting the small table with his mismatched thrift store cutlery and chipped plates, a casserole dish and a large pot both sitting on chopping boards in the centre of the table, steaming and waiting.

 

Jordan quickly grabbed two cups from the kitchen cabinet and filled them with cold water – the only beverage he had at the moment, unless Stiles wanted soy milk. It was strangely domestic, sitting down to a warm meal after a long day at work. The kind of thing he would have imagined in his future when he was a boy.

 

And it was good.

 

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Stiles’ reign of terror over the sheriff’s diet was the stuff of legend at the station. It was entirely logical that the teen would have to be able to cook, especially considering how he’d cracked down after the Darach. Whatever that was.

 

He practically inhaled the meal – some sort of curry on … cous cous? Thank goodness Stiles was a teenager with a voracious appetite. Anyone else would have been offended by the way he was shovelling his food into his mouth. As it was there was only a few minutes of silence, interspersed with clinking cutlery and chewing. It had been so long since he’d had a home cooked meal. Even longer since he’d eaten with someone who mattered to him.

 

And the kid did matter to him. To a surprising degree. It wasn’t hard to see past the façade of sarcastic teenager that he put up. Wasn’t hard to see the fierce loyalty and brutal practicality that drove Stiles. He’d heard stories from both the Sheriff and Derek about Stiles, about the things the boy had been doing at only sixteen, about Molotov cocktails, torture, and staring death in the face time and time again. Stiles had been possessed for fuck’s sake. It actually terrified him how well adjusted the he was.

 

And he’d come over, probably broken in, and cooked Jorden dinner. It was… thoughtful. Showed a degree of protectiveness that the deputy hadn’t expected from the human. _I like you. I’m gonna keep you_. The words drifted across Jordan’s mind, a memory that he didn’t think about too much. Because, that? Being wanted, cared about, it wasn’t something he’d ever thought to have again. Belonging to Stiles certainly wasn’t the worst fate in the world.

 

“-dan?” Stiles said in the tone of somebody who’d been asking for a while, “you in there, dude?”

 

“Sorry, I just zoned out,” he muttered. “Tired.”

 

“That would be the whole not-sleeping thing you decided to do,” Stiles noted dryly. “Look. Derek’s not gonna be here for a few hours. My dad bullied him into actually applying to the academy. So how about you get some sleep?”

 

Jordan opened his mouth to protest and yawned, jaw cracking. Well. Maybe Stiles was right. He watched the younger man clear the table and fill the sink with soapy water before hauling himself over to the bed and collapsing down. It was heaven.

 

It got even better when Stiles finished with the dishes and started stripping. Jordan’s eyes, which had been drifting shut, snapped open as the lanky teen took off his shirts first, and then slid his jeans off, leaving him in a pair of batman briefs. He crawled into bed beside Jordan, snuggling up without hesitation.

 

“You do realise that I’m not going to be able to sleep with you right there,” the deputy said.

 

It was the truth. His body was already reacting to the presence of the teen.

 

Stiles just shot him questioning eyebrows. Apparently he didn’t get it.

 

Jordan rolled himself over, pressing his body against the younger man’s, making sure to grind his erection into the human’s side.

 

“Oh.” The boy’s eyes widened. “Oohh. _Awesome_. Want me to take care of that for you?”

 

Jordan’s brain shortcircuited. He froze, staring at the teenager. And then he reached down and shoved his sweats off.

 

Stiles grinned, eyes lighting up and then flailed his way out of his briefs, pressing eagerly back into Jordan. The older man suppressed a grin. It was hard not to smile at the kid’s enthusiasm. And it was good to see him so relaxed and confident.

 

Stiles began at Jordan’s ankles, nibbling his way up, pausing to lick behind his knees and mouth greedily up his inner thigh.

 

A blow job, then. The deputy inched his legs slightly wider to give the teen room, but the infuriating human completely bypassed the man’s throbbing cock and began to nibble up the side of his stomach.

 

Stiles must have noticed his squirming because he smirked and cocked an eyebrow up at the man, a mischievous light shining in his eyes. _Beautiful_.

 

“Lube?” the boy murmured, voice husky.

 

“Nightstand,” Jordan said back, curiously.

 

The boy leaned over him to fetch it, giving the deputy a fantastic view of his lithe body and taught muscles. He came back with slick hands, one hand stroking over Jordan’s cock, the other-

 

Jordan’s breath hitched. The maddening little tease was _fingering himself_. He planted himself next to the man on the bed, legs splayed to give him a good view of the two long fingers working in and out of that little hole.

 

As for Stiles, well, he was obviously enjoying himself. Even if it wasn’t for his leaking cock and stuttering breath, Jordan would have known from the way he arched his back and clenched his free hand around the deputy’s cock. He eased the third finger inside slowly, adding more lube as he went, until he was fucking himself, making desperate mewling noises. Holy shit.

 

“Parrish,” the kid moaned, legs taut and shaking. “Please.”

 

“Call me Jordan,” he husked back, “and get over here.”

 

Stiles shot him a shy smile, completely at odds with the way he threw a leg over the deputy’s body and straddled him. Jordan smiled back, tracing over the kid’s buttocks and trailing fingers down to circle his hole. He slipped three digits in, scissoring them, checking that the younger man was ready, before guiding him up on his knees and pressing the head of his cock to that wet, swollen, needy little opening.

 

Stiles bit his lip as he eased down, engulfing Jordan in his tight, wet sheath.

 

 

 

Fuck. _Fuck_.

 

Stiles bit his lip as he inched down, legs shaking with the strain of lowering himself so slowly. Jordan certainly wasn’t a small man, and he sank impossibly deep as Stiles finally settled onto his lap, back arching with the feel. _Fuck_ , but the deputy felt incredible, stretching him impossibly wide, making his muscles burn. He settled down, squirming into a better position, enjoying the feel of Jordan shifting inside of him.

 

The man in question muttered something under his breath and grabbed his hips, urging him to move. Stiles chuckled and ground back down, making Jordan’s hands tighten on his hips. He laughed breathlessly.

 

“Just lie back and let me take care of everything,” he said to the other man.

 

Parrish’s eyes glittered with mirth as he released Stiles’ ass and linked his hands behind his head, relaxing back and giving the teen a challenging smirk.

 

Stiles grinned back and placed his hands on the other man’s pectorals, giving himself leverage to rock up and slide back down. He gasped at the sweet friction, a whimper slipping out as he sank back down. Under him, Jordan’s neck went taut, his eyes fluttering with pleasure.

 

It was a heady sensation, having a man like that – gorgeous, charming, kind, and fucking _immortal_ – getting so much pleasure from _Stiles_. He rose up again, choking out a moan when Jordan rocked his hips up to meet him. They settled into an easy rhythm, skin beginning to slap, sweat sliding down Stiles’ back and pooling in his collarbone. Beneath him, Jordan’s chest heaved with exertion, the man’s hands now clenched around Stiles’ hips, pulling him onto his dick with each thrust. The human couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

Stiles was panting, legs aching with overuse, muscles screaming. He wasn’t going to be able to keep it up, wasn’t going to be able to make Parrish come, wasn-

 

Two large hands clamped over Parrish’s on his hips, lifting him easily and sliding him back down onto Jordan. He rolled his head back, smiling up at Derek as the werewolf straddled Jordan’s thighs, settling in behind him and taking over, moving him until Jordan gasped out beneath them, body arching and face going slack with pleasure.  The man’s eyes were glowing coals as he came, his come _hot_ as it exploded into Stiles, just on the right side of burning.

 

The boy choked at the feeling, whimpered, and then came so hard he saw white.

 

He felt his body go limp in Derek’s grasp, head lolling on the beta’s shoulder.

 

“Again, Stiles?” the werewolf asked indulgently. “You’re insatiable.”

 

 

Stiles froze at the word. Memories flashed back – his lips brushing down Lydia’s cheek, his voice, smooth and dark, _insatiable._

 

 

 

“Stiles?” Derek asked, worried.

 

The boy had frozen, eyes widening slightly. More worrying, he reeked of fear and guilt and hate.

 

The smile he switched on was wide and bright and empty. “Sorry, just… memories, y’know?”

 

Jordan sighed and yanked him down, wrapping him in a tight hug.

 

“We know. Now sleep.”

 

Derek snorted and slid off him, padding off to the bathroom. It was easy to find in the tiny apartment, the only area separated by actual walls. He returned quickly with a wet cloth, wiping both of them off, easing Jordan out of the boy, taking the time to stroke over the soft skin on the other man’s flaccid cock. Satisfied that the deputy was clean and comfortable he slid a gentle finger inside of Stiles. The teen winced at the unexpected intrusion, muscles tensing around the werewolf’s finger as the man examined him for any damage. By the time he was finished, Stiles was starting to drift off, his head on Jordan’s shoulder. Derek wasn’t even a little bit jealous. It was the other man’s turn to get drooled on.

 

Derek tossed the soiled cloth in the direction of the bathroom and stripped down. The other two watched with interest as he crawled onto the bed, curling around Stiles’ back, one arm tucked over his boy so that his hand rested on Jordan’s waist. For all that he hadn’t had a chance to get the other man alone, he certainly hoped that was between them wasn’t dependent on Stiles’ presence. He really wanted the chance to have them both.

 

“We need to talk in the morning,” the werewolf reminded them, remembering the smirk and utter lack of surprise the sheriff had shown at catching the beta climbing out of Stiles’ bedroom. It was terrifying.

 

He got two sleepy grumbles in response.

 

His last thought before drifting off was to wonder what it said about him that he found that adorable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s Camaro is alive and present. Don’t tell me otherwise, I live in my own bubble.
> 
> References to Stiles topping. 
> 
> HUGE D/S UNDERTONES IN THIS
> 
> Thanks to AmilleaMoravii for giving this a quick go over and letting me bounce ideas off her <3

Stiles groaned as he finally managed to scramble onto the roof of his Jeep, holding his phone up desperately like he was doing a bad Lion King impersonation. Nothing. Nada.

 

Of course, of fucking course, he was stuck here, on the side of the road, with a flat tyre, no jack, and no signal. This is what they got for trying to avoid his dad. They didn’t have any evidence that he knew, but both men had been pretty concerned. And after he’d casually tossed Stiles a tube of lube, Stiles could understand that. Hence the meeting up in the Preserve business.

 

Stiles huffed and flopped down on the roof. Derek and Jordan would miss him for sure, but who knows how long it would take them to find him? He sighed and flopped down on top of his car, bunching his hoodie underneath his head for a pillow, resigned to waiting for an hour at least.

 

He’d been wrong. It was only a few minutes before a very familiar rumbling purr echoed down the road. Derek’s Camaro. More importantly, Derek and Jordan.

 

Stiles dragged himself upright as the Camaro pulled in behind him with a crunch of gravel and one last throaty rumble. Jesus fuck, but he loved that car. Loved it even more as both men climbed out of it, Derek in his typical Henley and jeans, Jordan…. Still in uniform? That wasn’t the plan.

 

“You’re late,” he called to the two older men. “Thank god.”

 

Parrish looked amused, while Derek squatted next to the flat and scowled at it. Typical. Stiles would have to tell him that his usual problem solving method of scowling and looking sexy wasn’t going to work in this situation.

 

“Can’t change a tyre?” the werewolf asked, smirking.

 

“Not without a jack,” Stiles snapped back. “I lent it to Mrs McCall.”

 

Derek frowned and pushed to his feet in an easy movement, managing to convey both strength and grace. Stiles stared with unabashed lust. The werewolf paused and took a deep, deliberate breath through his nose, a smug smile crossing his face as he sauntered over to stand in front of Stiles, head and torso between the human’s legs.

 

Parrish crossed his arms and watched in amusement as the wolf pressed right up against the jeep, large hands grasping the boy’s ankles. Stiles jerked as the grip tightened, the wolf tugging him to the very edge of the roof, face tilted up just inches away from the crotch of his jeans.

 

“Der-“ he started, and then yelped as the wolf grabbed hold of his hips and pulled him over the edge.

 

Fuck. Stiles had worked out that supernatural strength was a bit of a turn on, but this was something else. The werewolf had a firm hold of his hip, lowering him agonisingly slowly. Stiles grabbed hold of his head for balance as Derek buried his nose in Stiles’ crotch, inhaling loudly and deliberately, nuzzling into the boy before continuing up, dragging his nose through the boy’s happy trail.

 

Stiles gasped, breath exploding out as Derek dipped his tongue into his belly button, the wet warmth sudden and shocking. His exhalation turned into a whimper as sharp teeth dragged along his skin teasingly. He slipped his hands to the wolf’s shoulders, choking in another breath as Derek held him effortlessly aloft.

 

His wolf pushed his shirt up with his nose as he slowly lowered the boy, pressing gentle kisses and blowing soft breaths over the human’s skin. He paused at the kid’s sternum, eyes glowing as he moved his hands, wrapping one arm just under his boy’s ass, the other sliding up the back of his shirt, caressing warm smooth skin, playing across a spattering of moles.

 

Stiles whimpered and pressed forward, grinding his erection into the werewolf’s hard torso. Fuck. _Fuck_. Derek chuckled at the noise, tightening his grip and nuzzling into Stiles’ chest, pressing licks and open-mouthed bites along his ribs, his beard burning red onto the kid’s pale skin. Stiles groaned at the contact, arching forward. He could feel Derek’s smile pressed into the skin just beneath his clavicle as the werewolf finally, finally, lowered him so his feet touched the ground.

 

He felt a dopey grin stretch his face as the wolf pulled back, stroking his hands gently up the teen’s neck and cradling his face. Stiles couldn’t help the undoubtedly gooey softening of his face as he met Derek’s smiling eyes, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to the other man’s lips, eyes fluttering closed. There was something about gentle kisses. The way he couldn’t stop them, like it was some bizarre craving, his lips tingling with each brush against Derek’s skin.

 

Stiles would have been content to just keep things chaste, but Derek had other ideas. He deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and prodding gently at Stiles’ mouth until the kid opened. The moment he capitulated, the werewolf was crowding him back, forcing him to stumble up against something warm and hard. Something that rocked back under their force before sliding forward, pressing up against them. Jordan.

 

The other man chuckled, leaning forward to nibble at Stiles’ neck, one hand sliding around Stiles and between him and the werewolf to pluck at his nipples, coaxing them into stiffness with tugs and clever fingers.

 

“Ah,” Stiles groaned, arching into the touch, grinding his ass back against- yep, that was an erection. Derek chuckled and rubbed his face against Stiles’ cheek, raising beard burn on the sensitive skin before pulling back and releasing the boy.

 

Stiles whimpered in protest, eyes fluttering as he leaned forward, desperate to get those lips back on his, the front of his body suddenly cold as Derek stepped away, taking his preternatural body heat with him.

 

Parrish locked strong arms around him and held him back, tugging him impossibly closer and stretching the neck of his t-shirt down to get at more skin. He never once moved that mouth from Stiles’ neck, continuing alternate hard sucking bites with gentle touches and soft puffs of air. His arm was rock solid around Stiles’ torso, hand flat on Stiles’ pec, other hand gripping one hip to pull him back.

 

The reason for that was abundantly clear as the deputy began to grind against Stiles’ ass, causing the human’s eyes to flutter. Jesus fuck. Nothing had ever felt this good. Well, nothing since the last time he’d been crushed to a slab of supernatural muscle.

 

A whimper slipped out of Stiles’ mouth as Parrish pulled back, ghosting warm breaths over his skin without touching him. Gooseflesh rippled across his body and he whined, tilting his head to give Jordan access, arching his body even more to push back into the other man’s cock.

 

Jordan chuckled into his skin.

 

“Are you two planning on helping any time soon?” Derek asked dryly, dropping a jack to the gravel with a metallic crunch.

 

Stiles flushed, swaying slightly as Jordan released him. Holy shit. He’d managed to completely forget about his jeep. How had he forgotten about his jeep?

 

* * *

 

 

Derek ruthlessly suppressed his smile as Stiles swayed. He looked debauched, lips pink and swollen, cheeks burning with a hectic flush, pupils dilated. Even his hair was more messed up than usual. Which was saying something.

 

It took every inch of self control he had to turn back to the jeep. They couldn’t do this at the side of the road. They just couldn’t. No, Derek would get the tyre changed, they would head out to the preserve, and then he would hold Stiles down and fuck his perky little ass until the teen couldn’t remember his own name. They’d done it before.

 

He wasn’t sure what look was on his face, but Jordan was shooting him an amused smirk, the smug bastard, and Stiles was staring with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Derek stifled a groan as the kid’s pink tongue flickered out to wet them, cock twitching in his jeans. He’d only just managed to get the damn thing down, dammit.

 

He squared his shoulder and turned resolutely back to the car, trying to ignore the disappointed noise that Stiles made.

 

Dropping to a crouch in front of the flat, Derek felt around for somewhere he could put the jack, not sure where a good weight-bearing location would be. Fuck. He sighed and flopped onto his back, wriggling his head and shoulders under the car to get a better look. There. That was a good spot. He reached his hand out, groping around for the jack before the cool metal was pressed into his palm.

 

It was as he moved the gravel around to create a flat surface that he felt it. Two knees pressed on either side of his legs and the warm weight of somebody straddling him. Huh. He turned his attention back to getting the jack situated, jerking slightly as clever fingers popped the button on his jeans. His hips flexed up involuntarily, pushing his aching dick against somebody’s hands.

 

“Stiles?” he heard Jordan ask, a slight edge to his voice.

 

It obviously wasn’t his hand rubbing over Derek’s erection.

 

“Just giving Derek a reward for fixing my Jeep,” the teen said nonchalantly, pulling his zip down.

 

Derek groaned and let his head fall back onto the gravel. Fucking fuck. They shouldn’t do this. The road they were on was out of the way, but that didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. They had a plan, dammit. They needed to be responsible.

 

But the feel of those strong young hands pulling at his jeans…

 

Derek canted his hips up, lifting himself enough for the teen to pull his pants down to his knees and…

 

He huffed in surprise as his bare ass came down on skin-warmed cotton. Apparently the kid had shoved hoodie under there. Thoughtful of him.

 

His appreciation for that abruptly dissipated as wet warmth enclosed his dick. Jesus f- He _grunted_ at the suction that started up, hips jacknifing up without his permission. And if he hadn’t known that it was Stiles, the sudden scent of arousal and delighted moan would have clued him in. The boy bobbed down, making Derek curse and clutch at the Jeep as the head of his erection brushed across the roof of the boy’s mouth and then the soft warmth of his throat.

 

“ _Stiles_ ,” Parrish sounded irritated.

 

If Derek couldn’t smell the arousal drifting off the man, he would have believed the deputy to be totally unaffected by their shameless little lover’s show. As it was, he smirked at the man, arching up as the maddening brat drew his mouth back up, tongue sliding along Derek’s dick and swirling over the tip as he released it.

 

“Yes?” Stiles asked innocently.

 

Derek had a sneaking suspicion he was fluttering his eyes.

 

“This is a public road,” Jordan huffed. “You can’t do this here. Just let us fix your car and then we can go somewhere private.”

 

Stiles smirked, eyes sparkling as he slowly jacked Derek. The werewolf couldn’t help the growl that slipped out as he moved his hips into the teen’s hand.

 

“Are you going to arrest me, _Deputy_?” the brat asked.

 

There was a long drawn out pause.

 

“Sit on the hood of your car,” the other man murmured under his breath. “Legs spread.”

 

Derek’s breath caught. The only times they had discussions like this, discussions too quiet for the human to hear, was when they were planning on being a little bit… dominant.

 

His cock throbbed, aching. Jesus Christ. He didn’t know what the deputy had planned… but he could be sure it would be enjoyable.

 

A metallic clinking caught his ears, right before… Holy fuck. _Handcuffs_.

 

“Wha-?” Stiles asked, lifting off him.

 

Derek eagerly wriggled out from under the car, breath catching at what he saw.

 

Parrish had Stiles pressed up against the side of the jeep, handcuffs firmly clasped around the boy’s wrists.

 

“-have the right to remain silent,” the man was murmuring, pressing his body even closer, voice like velvet as he crushed the kid into the car.

 

Derek hesitated briefly as he considered his jeans where they were still wrapped around his knees. Should he-

 

Parrish looked over and jerked his head, eyes glowing with lust and mischievous delight. Jesus. For all of his good ol’ boy behaviour, the man was certainly willing to cut loose when the occasion called for it.

 

Derek quickly stripped down under Jordan’s hot gaze, raising his eyebrows at the man. He sprawled onto the car, wincing at the touch of the warm metal on his bare skin.

 

Jordan smirked and tightened his hold on the human, jerking the kid around and shoving him over to the car. Derek winced as the deputy shoved the boy down, pressing his head into the hood right between the werewolf’s spread legs.

 

He shot Derek a quick wink before starting to pat the boy down.

 

* * *

 

 

Jordan hid a smile in the human’s hair as he slowly, _thoroughly_ , frisked him. Stiles was so damn responsive. It was heady, the way he whined, pressing back into Jordan, tugging at the cuffs as they pressed into his fragile skin. Addictive, the way the bruises Jordan had sucked into his neck earlier were already a dark colour, just low enough to be covered by the kid’s plaid.

 

The deputy let his hands trail down the boy’s chest, pausing to thumb his nipples to attention, drawing a hitched breath from Stiles, before continuing. He swirled a finger into the boy’s belly button, tugged on the dark hair beneath it, before finally, finally, brushing over his cock. So hard. Jordan bit gently on the teen’s shoulder as he fondled his erection, stroking the length with a firm palm.

 

“Just so you know,” Stiles breathed. “That’s not a gun in my pocket. I’m definitely just happy to see you.”

 

He couldn’t bite back his grin in time, felt the brush of the kid’s skin as his lips curled against it. It was warm, logically he knew that, but cool to his overheated touch. That temperature difference was probably the reason for the gooseflesh covering the human’s arms.

 

Parrish leaned over the human, dragging his hands dow-

 

A crinkle caught his attention.

 

Oh. _Oh_.

 

He slipped two fingers into the pocket of the kid’s jeans, fishing out… a packet of lube.

 

“And what’s this?” he asked, slapping it down on the hood next to the kid.

 

Jesus Christ, he hoped the kid played along. Hoped he took the hint.

 

“Well, deput _ies_ ,” Stiles breathed, shooting Derek a look. “Surely there’s something I can do to convince you to let me go.”

 

“Are you trying to bribe us?” the werewolf growled, flashing his eyes.

 

Stiles shuddered under Jordan’s hands, reacting to the threat with a soft whimper.

 

“I think,” Derek continued. “That someone should shut you up before you say something damning.”

 

Stiles moaned, nodding against the metal of the car. “You’re right. Definitely,” he said. “Would you be able to help me, deputy?”

 

Jordan couldn’t help smirking at the other man as his eyes glowed brighter. For all of his protectiveness, he obviously loved having Stiles spread out beneath them. Loved the boy’s willing submission just as much as Jordan did.

 

He crowded the kid closer to the car, getting a firm grip in the boy’s hair and using it to lift his head, guiding his mouth to Derek’s erection. The werewolf reached over, sliding one hand around the back of the human’s neck, pressing his cock to those reddened lips.

 

Stiles reacted predictably, flicking his tongue out and across the tip before looking up at Derek from beneath his lashes and letting his mouth open to the tip. Derek let out a rumbling noise and used his grip on the kid’s neck to pull him down onto his dick, his eyes fluttering closed.

 

Parrish could sympathise. Stiles’ mouth was fucking amazing. Almost as good as his tight little hole. The deputy leaned back, feeling his eyes burn at the sight before him. Stiles was standing, bent over the car with his back arched, giving a beautiful display of that perky denim-clad ass and that soft and pale back. Jordan couldn’t help but drag his hands down that bare skin, thumbs on either side of the boy’s spine and fingers splayed out to feel as much skin as possible.

 

He paused at the kid’s ass, taking two firm handfuls and pushing them together, feeling his cock thob in his uniform pants at the sight of those tight little mounds. It was the work of moments to rip the jeans and brief’s down, leaving them around the boy’s knees and using a foot to kick those legs as wide as they would go.

 

And then, after he’d coated his fingers in slick, he was there, stroking his index finger firmly around his human’s little entrance.

 

Stiles _whined_ , pushing his hips back onto Jordan’s while Derek guided his head back down on his cock. He was going deep with each thrust, Parrish noted, undoubtedly pushing right into their boy’s throat. It made him smile, noting the unabashed pleasure on the werewolf’s face and the human’s dripping erection. In that moment, with his finger sunk deep inside the boy, he felt like they were all made for each other.

 

Fuck, but Stiles was tight. Jordan groaned as he edged a second finger in, trying not to think of what it would feel like to shove his dick in. He had to prepare the kid first. No matter how much he wanted to just push in and open Stiles up with his cock, he couldn’t. Not when Stiles was so human and breakable.

 

Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t rush the process a little, sliding more lube in with his third finger and gasping as Stiles constricted around him, a funny little hiccupping noise exploding out of the kid’s mouth. Derek groaned and pushed a little bit deeper, pulling back quickly as Stiles gagged, running a soothing hand across the boy’s cheek and through his hair.

 

Jordan waited for him to settle before moving his fingers in and out, scissoring them slightly to prepare Stiles. Close. He was so damn close to being able to push in. His cock was throbbing painfully in his uniform pants.

 

Finally, fucking finally, he pulled his fingers free, making quick work of his button and fly. He didn’t even bother with his shirt, just rucking it up slightly as he notched his cock at Stiles’ entrance and started to slide in.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

Hot and tight and slick and _tight_. How was he still this tight? Jesus fuck. Jordan braced his hands on the hood of the car, on either side of Stiles’ slender body, and pushed forward with his hips. It was a fucking religious experience, sliding into that body, feeling the ripples of the kid’s muscles around him, listening to the breathless little noises he made. Jordan couldn’t think, couldn’t even see, his world revolving around the feeling around his dick.

 

It was a while before the words penetrated his haze.

 

“Oh fuck, please, please, fuck, Jordan, so good, _please_.”

 

Stiles. Stiles, who was, fuck, dripping come. Stiles, whose muscles were fluttering under Jordan’s hands. Jordan blinked and looked down, seeing his hands locked tight around the kid’s hips, stopping him from rocking back, stopping him from fucking himself on Jordan’s cock.

 

The deputy pulled out, eyes rolling as the motion dragged him through Stiles’ tight insides. He thrust back in, hard, letting out a loud noise as the heat engulfed him again. Jesus fuck, but this brat was going to kill him.

 

Stiles was whimpering beneath him, letting out desperate “ah, ah, ah”s with every thrust as he gave up his self control entirely. It was worth it, worth the feeling of seeking his own orgasm with such desperation. Damn but the kid was _amazing_. He didn’t ever want to live without this, the way Stiles not only took him, but pressed back, whined desperately for more.

 

It was fast and brutal and he didn’t even realise Stiles was close to coming before his insides constricted around him. It was enough. Enough, finally to send him over the edge. His world shattered violently as he came. He watched, almost out of body, as his hands burst into flames, pulling the human in for one last hard thrust.

 

And Stiles… He moaned, eyes flying wide and body spasming as his half-hard cock spurted one more time, smearing come over the hood of Derek’s Camaro.

 

Jordan groaned and collapsed onto him, bearing them both down onto the car. Thank god for werewolf strength. Derek managed to haul them both up onto the hood where they all lay, panting for breath.

 

Parrish wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep, but he forced himself to roll over, hands stroking over Stiles’ thin hips where his hands had been.

 

Nothing. There was no mark. He’d pressed flaming hands to the boy and not a single hair was singed.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles groaned as he tried to uncurl himself from his fetal position. Damn, but his boyfriends were going to kill him. Never mind berserkers and crazy alphas and Kate fucking Argent. Stiles was going to die by sex. He’d come twice. In the space of a minute. Twice. And the second time had felt so good it had almost hurt.

 

He flopped onto his stomach, hands still cuffed firmly behind his back.

 

“My ass hurts,” he whined to nobody in particular.

 

“So you can top next time,” Derek said easily, eyes closed.

 

Stiles froze. Fuck. He hadn’t really meant to bring that up.

 

“Do you not want to?” Jordan asked seriously. “You don’t need to, okay? We just thought you’d like to give it a try.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t _want_ to,” Stiles blurted.

 

Damn. Why had he said that? Why the hell had he thought to say that? Shit. Shit. Now they were definitely going to ask-

 

“So why don’t you give it a go?” Derek asked, eyebrows drawn down.

 

Stiles sighed and hid his burning face in his arms.

 

“I don’t know how,” he admitted, not able to look either of them in the eye. “You guys are both so good at it, and I…”

 

“Stiles,” Derek said seriously. “We’re not expecting you to be fantastic on your first go.”

 

“ _Nobody_ is fantastic on their first go,” Parrish added. “But we’ll talk you through it and teach you.”

 

“You’ll just have to practice a lot,” Derek said, stretching his ridiculous body. “I’m sure it’ll be a huge hardship.”

 

Stiles flushed and peeked back over at Jordan.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” the deputy said seriously, reclining on his back and closing both eyes.

 

“Jordan,” Stiles said seriously.

 

The deputy opened one eye, whole body radiating satisfaction and contentment.

 

“Can you get the cuffs?”

 

Jordan sighed and reached down to where his pants were around his ankles, fishing in the utility belt for his keys. He rolled over and fiddled with the cuffs, hands sure. Stiles sighed and rested his forehead on the car. His arms were going to be so sore tomorrow.

 

And Parrish was taking forever.

 

“Struggling to find the hole,” Stiles snarked.

 

“Um…” Jordan said, voice nowhere near as unruffled as it normally was.

 

Derek’s eyes flew open at the tone and he sat up.

 

“I seem to have the wrong keys,” the deputy said.

 

Stiles lay there for a frozen moment.

 

“WHAT?!”

 

* * *

 

 

John Stilinski hummed to himself as he sorted some more files out. Knowing about all of the supernatural business was a definite bonus in closing cases. Which meant he was in a really good mood.

 

Right up until his phone rang.

 

He stared for a long moment at the screen. There was no good reason for Derek Hale to be calling him on his mobile. No good reason at all.

 

And every cop sense he had was telling him that Stiles had something to do with this.

 

“Stilinski,” he snapped into the phone, making his voice deliberately brusque.

 

“Sheriff,” Derek said, voice sounding a tad strained. “We have a bit of a situation.”

 

“A chessboard situation?”

 

“No,” the werewolf said. “A Stiles situation.”

 

John sighed and rubbed his face. Called it.

 

“What’s happened?”

 

“Well,” Derek said, obviously searching for the right words. “He was going to get himself involved in something dangerous.”

 

Well. That’s not what the sheriff was expecting. In all honesty he’d been scared the werewolf would say that his kid was pregnant or something. Which might even be a possibility with all of the werewolf stuff. And did the sheriff have to give his son a tailored version of the safe sex talk?

 

“So Jordan handcuffed him,” the man continued, oblivious to the sheriff’s freakout.

 

“And-?” John asked, wondering where this was going.

 

“And he doesn’t have the keys to the handcuffs he used. So he’s just gonna head back and grab them.”

 

Handcuffs. The sheriff had a sudden and uncomfortable realisation. Jordan had definitely handcuffed his kid. But John would bet his next paycheck that it wasn’t to stop his kid doing something dangerous. Unless one counted sex as dangerous.

 

“Just bring Stiles here,” the sheriff said meanly. “He deserves the humiliation for trying to do something stupid.”

 

And then he hung up.

 

What was he going to do to those boys this time?

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles was shirtless. John probably should have guessed that. It didn’t really bother him, except for the huge hickeys stretching along one shoulder and up his son’s neck. And the beard burn all over his kid’s chest.

 

 

He let them stew while he took his time getting to the right set of keys, making sure to check several others first, just to watch them all squirm.

 

And then. Then he sent the two men out, leaving him alone with his son.

 

“Stiles,” he began, making sure to keep his ‘stern parent’ face on. “I appreciate that you are a teenage boy and that certain behaviour is quite normal for a healthy young man of your age.”

 

Stiles’ flush was fantastic. John felt a bubble of vindictive glee rise up. If he had to be uncomfortable, he was damn well going to spread that suffering around. Particularly on the culprits.

 

“I guess I should have been expecting this,” he continued, leaving his son gaping. “After what I caught you and Malia doing.”

 

Stiles’ mouth dropped open, so John held up a preemptive hand to stop the interruption.

 

“It’s totally normal for a young man to experiment.”

 

Christ, even the kid’s ears were glowing. And through the glass behind him, John could see the flush spreading across Derek’s cheekbones.

 

“Now, son,” John said, watching as Stiles gaped unattractively. “There are places where you can get your own handcuffs. And I know that money’s a bit tight, but I’d prefer that than to have to do this again.”

 

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Stiles blurted out desperately.

 

Behind him Derek was whispering to Parrish, who was also turning red. John felt his good mood returning at a rapid rate.

 

“ _Stiles_ ,” he cut over his son’s objections. “It’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of. You don’t need to lie.”

 

He made sure to give his son an understanding smile, internally cackling at the horror on his face.

 

“However, I would like it if you were more… _hygienically aware_.”

 

Now Stiles just looked confused.

 

“You have a bit of something,” the sheriff said, gesturing to the stiff patch in Stiles hair.

 

Derek fell out of his chair. And nope, John really hadn’t wanted to know that. Words like “money shot” did _not_ belong in his head when he was thinking about his son.

 

Stiles was somehow managed to be both pale and red, eyes comically wide and mouth gaping.

 

“Don’t worry,” the sheriff said, kindly. “It’s normal to get a bit enthusiastic when you have the house to yourself. I was your age once. Now, how about you talk Derek into taking you home?”

 

He waited until Stiles left before fishing the pen out of his pocket and turning it around to smile at the camera in it.

 

Now he had the best blackmail material possible. Let’s see his son feed him salad when he had this little recording.

 

John turned back to his files, whistling happily.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is sick. Jordan and Derek babysit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: So you may have noticed that this has been turned into a series. The reason for this is that I really like writing these boys and their amazing sexy times and don’t really want to stop. This work will finish up after chapter 08, with some beautiful feelings and general porn. But that’s not the end. Because I have a series of oneshots planned as the rest of the pack finds out about the relationship. They’ll be porn and crack and humour :D If this sounds good to you, feel free to subscribe.
> 
> Also, a tiny bit of angst in this chapter. My wife loves angst and I kinda-sorta-maybe promised her some when we were curled up together with ice-cream and terrible movies (which is totally cheating, btw, my lovely little forest). Sorry if angst is not your thing.
> 
> All knowledge on frontotemporal dementia comes from the internetz.
> 
> The delightful pece87 has pointed out that I have some Australian/UK spelling floating around. I’m really sorry if that upsets anyone, but I’m not going to bother going through it all and changing it. After I’ve posted chapter 08, I will be going through and fixing the occasional typo that I’ve found, so I might do it then.
> 
> And, to FiccinDylan, who told me that there’s a wonderful theory out there that Parrish is Isaac’s older brother with amnesia – I’m including it. It’s now in this fic.
> 
> Sorry for the lateness – uni and medical problems don’t mix, apparently. I gave you two sexy scenes to make up for it :D I know that I promised somebody a Derek/Parrish scene… Does it count if Stiles is asleep in the same room? I’m kinda loathe to put too many scenes in where somebody gets left out – my foursome friends forbade threesomes for this reason (and, yes, I have a group of 4 bisexual friends who are all dating each other. It’s seriously adorable).

* * *

 

Stiles groaned and pulled his blankets more tightly around his shivering body. After everything they’d been through, you’d have thought his immune system would be capable of handling the flu. But, nooooo. Surviving paralysis, wolfsbane and possession, sure, but not the flu.

 

The door creaked open as Melissa popped in, eyes worried. His dad had called her before he’d left for work that morning and she’d promised to pop in on her way home. Somehow, Stiles hadn’t remembered that until now.

 

As it was, she pressed a gentle hand to his forehead, pausing to comb some sweaty hair out of his face, and giving him the most painfully maternal look he’d received from her since… well, since the last time he’d been this sick. Figures.

 

“Have you been keeping your fluids up?” she asked.

 

Stiles felt his eyes flick to the empty glass beside the bed. Yeah, that’d be a ‘No’. In his defence, walking all the way to the bathroom was just too much effort. It was better to just stay in his warm bed and be thirsty.

 

“Stiles,” Melissa said exasperatedly, crossing her arms and giving him the mom look.

 

“What?” he whined, trying to give his best puppy dog eyes. Hopefully the red nose and snot and fever would help.

 

She sighed and dug her phone out, shaking her head.

 

What. Was she… was she going to tell his dad? Urgh, no. That wasn’t ok-

 

“Derek?” Melissa said into the phone, giving Stiles a stern look when he flailed. “It’s Melissa. Yep. Uh-huh. No, the sheriff told me to ring you. No. Doesn’t look like it. It’s not hard, okay? Just keep an eye on him, get him water when it runs out, check his temperature occasionally. Nope. Nothing to worry about. Man flu, in my professional opinion. Uh-huh. No, I have to go home and sleep. Yeah, okay. Thanks for that.”

 

Stiles wasn’t sure what the look on his face was but she huffed at him and rolled her eyes.

 

“Derek’s coming over to take care of you. You _will_ show him the proper respect and gratitude, okay?”

 

Stiles swallowed, regretting it immediately as his throat burned, and nodded. Even though he really didn’t want the other man there. It was already enough of a miracle that Derek was interested in having sex with him. No need to push the limits by showing up gross, snotty, and sweaty.

 

He wrapped his blankets more tightly around himself. Maybe he could suffocate himself before Derek got here and avoid the inevitable awkward disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

Derek scowled at his cell as he tossed it onto the passenger seat. The sheriff had texted him in the morning, just to let him know that Stiles wasn’t feeling fantastic and was missing the first day of school, ‘just in case anyone panicked’. And now this. The sheriff telling Melissa McCall to call him to take care of Stiles.

 

He spent the drive to the Stilinski house wondering just how much the sheriff knew.

 

It actually felt weird, going through the front door and not Stiles’ window, what with the past three weeks of sexual shenanigans. And, really, Stiles had an excuse for that, being a teenager, but both Derek and Parrish should have had some limits. Having sex _at least_ once a day was just a tad ridiculous. No matter how sexy their young lover could be.

 

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that, he mused as he climbed the stairs, because a sick Stiles wouldn’t exactly test his self control.

 

And, yep, expectations met. Stiles was a sniffling, snoring lump under a ton of blankets, every breath a wheeze as it passed through blocked nasal passages. Derek took a quick snapchat and sent it to Jordan. This was just too adorable not to share.

 

The kid was curled in the fetal position, arms wrapped firmly around a pillow, the corner of which was tucked into his mouth. Derek stifled a chuckle as Stiles, still asleep, sucked on the material of his pillow case and made a soft contented noise.

 

He was distracted by the soft vibration of his phone.

 

 _Jordan:_      **Do I have to come and arrest you for standing? I’ve got the right keys for the handcuffs this time.**

_Jordan:_      ***Stalking**

 

Derek snickered and started to type back. He’d gotten much better at texting (and answering texts) since Stiles and Scott had stumbled into his life. Poor Jordan was just starting to learn.

 

 _Derek:_      **I’m here with parental permission. Taking care of a sick human. I’ll drop into the station after the sheriff gets home?**

_Jordan:_ **Sheriff’s working a double. I’ve got the night off and I’m heading your way.**

 

Derek smiled and put the phone down, shaking his head. It was typical of Jordan to come. He was probably just as worried as Derek was, and much better at doing something about it. It was probably a good thing that he was on his way, too. Derek had zero experience with human illness.

 

He turned back to Stiles, finding the boy’s eyes open and staring at him, hazy with sleep and fever. Derek huffed and rolled the chair over to the side of the bed, wrinkling his nose as he got closer. No matter how he felt about Stiles, the smell of unwashed sweaty teen was never going to be attractive. Nor was horrible vomit breath.

 

Nonetheless, it was Stiles, so he breathed through his mouth and smoothed down the human’s sweaty hair, simultaneously feeling his temperature. A little higher than normal, but not too bad. He settled in next to the kid, petting him as his eyelids drifted shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Jordan arrived quickly, calling a quiet greeting as he detoured to throw a Tupperware container of soup in the fridge and then slipped up the stairs, loud enough for the werewolf’s ears, but too quiet to bother Stiles. He needn’t have bothered. The teen was asleep, wheezing softly into his pillow. Derek looked up from Stiles’ open laptop on the desk, giving Jordan a welcoming smile.

 

It tugged at Jordan, the easy way the other man showed his affection towards them. He’d certainly opened up a huge amount in just three weeks. It made the deputy duck over and press a sweet and chaste kiss to the corner of the other man’s mouth.

 

Derek’s breath caught and he gently leaned up, reeling Jordan in for another gentle brush of lips, exhaling as-

 

“Slip him some tongue,” Stiles croaked from the bed.

 

Jordan huffed out an amused breath into Derek’s mouth before pulling back, throwing an exasperated look at the teen.

 

“Cold sick or vomit sick?” he asked.

 

Stiles scowled at him. “Flu sick. Vomited all yesterday but kept dry toast down this morning.”

 

His voice was a dry rasp that made Jordan wince in sympathy. For all that he’d never gotten sick, he could appreciate just how horrible it undoubtedly was.

 

“Sore throat?” he asked the kid, aware of Derek hovering curiously behind him.

 

Stiles gave him the most epic bitchface he’d ever seen, the _duh_ coming across loud and clear.

 

“Want to try some soup?”

 

Stiles perked up instantly, eyes brightening under the haze of the fever. Jordan rolled his eyes and sent Derek to heat up the soup and fetch a glass of water. While they waited, he checked the kid’s temperature, wincing as the thermometer read 102.5°F.

 

“I’m going to have to take some of these blankets away.”

 

Stiles scowled at him and clutched the bedding closer. And, really, that shouldn’t be adorable.

 

“If you seriously think you’re going to win a fight against Derek and I,” Jordan informed the teen, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

 

Stiles grumbled under his breath as he kicked the two extra blankets onto the floor, gripping his normal comforter with strong fingers and shooting Jordan a challenging glare.

 

Jordan smiled to himself. The human’s throat must have been agony for him to be keeping quiet for this long. If there was anything to be said about Stiles, it was that he was vocal. Very vocal. Worryingly so. The number of times one of the older men had been forced to clap a hand over his mouth when the sheriff was home… Although, that was probably their impatience at fault. It would have been better to just wait until the sheriff had left.

 

“Melissa says you have to keep your fluids up.” Derek said, unsure.

 

“Finish your water,” Jordan decided. “If you keep it and the soup down, we’ll try the Gatorade in the fridge.”

 

Stiles groaned and curled up under his blankets, looking pathetic. Derek huffed and sat next to him, back against the headboard (which Jordan knew from experience was seriously uncomfortable), and stroked a large hand through the human’s hair, petting him. Except… Jordan frowned. The werewolf’s veins were blackening under his skin.

 

“Dude,” Stiles groaned, relaxing. “Your pain drain is the shit.”

 

“Pain drain?” Jordan asked.

 

“Uh-hunh,” Stiles groaned dopily, pressing into Derek’s hands while Jordan straddled the desk chair. “Werewolves can totally take pain. It’s amazing. Would have been really useful when…”

 

Jordan felt his breath catch as the teen trailed off. “Your mother?” he asked through the lump in his throat.

 

It had always been an unspoken rule that none of them really discussed their families. Derek and Stiles both had obvious reasons for avoiding the topic. And as for Jordan? Well, he couldn’t remember his family. At all. And after being found wandering around the Middle Eastern desert with knowledge on IED but no idea of who he was, nobody had been able to track them down. The lack of worried family was slightly upsetting, but Jordan had moved past it, taking the barely-legible birthdate on the crushed dogtags that had been in his uniform pocket and making his own name.

 

So, chats about families? Normally out of the question. The idea that Stiles might be willing to talk about his mother… Well, it meant something.

 

“Mom wasn’t in pain,” Stiles said, sadly. “Not physically. I guess… there are different types of frontotemporal dementia and a whole host of symptoms. Hers were mainly behavioural, you know? And aphasia. It was really hard. She knew who we were. Always knew that I was her son. But… she stopped being able to find the right words. And I could see how frustrated she was that she couldn’t say what she wanted to say…”

 

Stiles huffed, and turned his head into his pillow, probably to hide his damp eyes.

 

“On her last night, she wanted me to give a message to dad. But. But she couldn’t say it properly, couldn’t get it across… And, I just… I never got to tell him her last words because they didn’t make any sense. That’s probably the worst part. Knowing that she needed to tell him something, but not being able to say it. She died knowing that she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.”

 

“My last words to Laura,” Derek said softly, “were ‘at least I’ll finally have some peace and quiet.’ She said ‘you’ll miss me’ as she walked out the door. And she has no idea how true that is.”

 

Stiles made a hurt noise in his throat and pulled the werewolf onto the bed, writhing and flailing ineffectively as he tried to drag the older man into his cocoon. Jordan shook his head at them and hauled the blanket away, shoving Stiles against the wall and filling the teen’s arms with grumpy werewolf. He then settled the blanket over the two of them and climbed in, wrapping Derek up as if the werewolf would fly apart without being held together.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a nice feeling, being surrounded by his lovers. Derek snuggled deeper, letting himself relax for the first time in far too long, smiling into Stiles’ clavicle as Jordan wiggled impossibly closer.

 

He was surrounded by people he could trust, people he cared about. They’d all suffered through grief and loss and fear. For once, he didn’t have to be alert, didn’t have to hide things. He had people who understood. People who cared. He wasn’t alone anymore.

 

He really wanted to stay there forever. Would have stayed there forever. It was just… Well… Stiles breath was _rank_. Seriously, the phrase “something died in there” might not have been too inaccurate. He was trying not to be too obvious about breathing through his mouth, but he really needed to get some fresh air, sooner rather than later.

 

Maybe if he just moved-

 

“Oh my god, do I smell that bad?!” Stiles demanded.

 

“Well I can smell your breath from here,” Parrish drawled. “Even with my face in Derek’s back.”

 

“If I shower, I might faint and die. It’d be just my luck to survive murder lizards and alpha packs and freaking assassins, but not the shower. Do you wanna be responsible for that?” Stiles snarked.

 

“If it makes you smell bearable,” Derek growled, “I’ll hold you up and wash you myself.”

 

“Done,” Parrish said, rolling to his feet. “You take care of that, I’ll change the sheets.”

 

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled away from his smelly human, scooping the kid up and ignoring the resultant complaints as he headed for the bathroom.

 

While he was tempted to just turn the spray on and shove the teen under the water, the way Stiles was huddling into Derek and shivering tugged at the werewolf. He gently settled the kid on top of the toilet seat and turned the water on to heat up.

 

He then turned back to the teen to find the human had managed to strip his shirt off and was listing to the side, leaning against the wall.

 

Derek took a moment to admire the sight of his half-naked lover, looking soft and dazed and sleepy, before helping him up, dropping to his knees in front of the human and guiding the kid’s hands to his shoulders.

 

“Lean on me,” he murmured to the teen, before placing a gentle kiss to the boy’s flat stomach.

 

The scent of Stiles’ arousal hit him instantly. It was impossible to stop the smirk from flashing across his face, so he settled for untying the laces of Stiles’ sweats, taking his time to enjoy the unexpected intimacy of the moment. Once the double knots were undone, he slipped his fingers into the waistband of the pants, finding no underwear, and gently slid them down, brushing his fingers down the human’s legs, through his wiry hair, and leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the crease between thigh and body.

 

Stiles leaned on him for balance as he pulled the sweats off each foot, tossing them onto the laundry basket.

 

Derek was left with an armful of sweaty naked human. He pulled the kid to the shower and double checked the temperature of the water before helping him in. And, fuck, but he didn’t really trust the boy to stay upright on his own. Stiles had enough problems with gravity when he wasn’t sick. He really shouldn’t be left to his own devices…

 

Trying not to get too aroused – which was extremely difficult, considering that he had a naked Stiles in front of him – he quickly stripped his clothes off and climbed into the shower beside the teen, turning the boy so his back was against the werewolf’s front. He hooked an arm around the human to steady him and snagged the body wash and cloth from Stiles with his free hand.

 

It was as he was trying to apply body wash to cloth with one hand holding a slippery wet human that Jordan appeared, sauntering into the bathroom and stripping down, taking his time to fold his clothes – with a lot of gratuitous stretching and bending. Derek tried to tamp his arousal down. Now was really not the time, but he had one lover putting on a hell of a show, climbing into the shower now, and another pressed right up against him, pert butt cushioning his erection.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles had always assumed that his first shower with company would occur when he wasn’t gross and feeling like shit. He should really have known better. Still, it was a nice feeling, being held up between his two boyfriends, safe and protected and cared for.

 

Derek kept one arm tucked around him as Jordan soaped up the washcloth and began to stroke over Stiles’ arms, holding eye contact with the teen as he ran hands over the boy’s body.

 

Stiles could feel his cock plumping up at the treatment. It felt… good. Weirdly intimate, having his body touched in such a non-sexual way.

 

And Jordan was being _very_ thorough, digging his thumbs into the teen’s inner elbows, occasionally letting his nails scrape gently. It was a tease. By the time both arms were done, Stiles was sporting a very obvious semi. He tilted his head back to let the deputy stroke over his neck. Fuck. He felt so vulnerable as Jordan ran bare soapy hands over his clavicle and up his throat, thumbs resting just under the hinge of the human’s jaw as his fingers trailed down the back of his neck.

 

 _Christ_. Stiles felt a shiver run down his back, his nipples hardening and skin tingling. And, shit, _shit_ , but the man was smirking at him. Derek appeared to be losing his misgivings, rocking his erection into Stiles’ ass, stealing the soap from Jordan and beginning to clean Stiles’ chest, flicking his hard nipples in the process.

 

Jordan chuckled and pressed forward to wrap his arms under Stiles’ and begin stroking his back. His soapy hands stroked across the planes of his shoulder blades and then scraped fingernails down his spine, making the teenager arch with a hitched breath. It felt so damn good. Those slippery hands caressed the globes of his ass, fingertips just teasing over his hole.

 

He couldn’t help the whimper as Jordan moved on, slipping to his knees in front of him.

 

“What’s wrong?” Jordan asked, voice concerned but eyes wicked.

 

“I don’t think it’s clean enough… there.” Stiles said, voice rough.

 

“Huh,” Jordan said. “Well I need to clean your legs now. Maybe Derek has a spare hand?”

 

Stiles could feel the werewolf smile into his shoulder, his free hand moving from Stiles’ happy trail to curve around the boy’s butt and rub teasingly at the sensitive skin around his entrance. Fuck. Jordan was sliding hands down his legs, his hypersensitive skin pebbling at the touch.

 

One thick finger slid into him just as Jordan dug his thumbs into Stiles’ foot in a sensual massage. Who knew that feet were an erogenous zone? Stiles had certainly overlooked them. Until now, with Jordan leaning forward and nibbling at his toes, ramping his arousal up until even the water sluicing down his body felt like a caress.

 

Every touch to his hypersensitive body had him practically writhing, from the dark hairs on Derek’s arm pressing against his chest and the feel of the werewolf’s finger as it brushed oh so gently across the human’s prostate to Jordan’s mouth as, _oh fuck_ , as he kissed and bit his way up Stiles’ inner thighs.

 

And then the man licked a long warm stroke up his cock. Stiles’ breath hitched, ragged, and his body arched, hips jerking reflexively, forward at Jordan’s face and then back onto Derek’s fingers. Fuck. _Fuck_. It felt so damn good.

 

He didn’t know it was possible to _be_ this hard.

 

Jordan, the biggest tease on the freaking planet, nuzzled around the base of his shaft, thumbs massaging his inner thighs as he slowly drove Stiles crazy. It wasn’t until Stiles was practically whining, high, needy noises bubbling up in his throat, that Jordan engulfed his throbbing cock in the delicious wet warmth of his mouth.

 

 _Fucking fuck_.

 

Between the way Derek seemed to be trying to prod an orgasm out of him from the inside, and the way Jordan was stroking his tongue along the bottom of Stiles’ shaft with each bob of his head, it took only a few desperate seconds before the human was shaking through his release, one hand tugging at Jordan’s wet hair and the other clamped desperately around Derek’s wrist where it supported him.

 

He shuddered and collapsed in the werewolf’s arms as his knees gave out, trusting the two men to keep him from falling. And they did.

 

* * *

 

Stiles was gorgeous when he came. The way his body arched, his mouth falling open. Just beautiful. And Jordan was exactly the same. God, but the man looked amazing with his mouth stretched around a cock. It made Derek regret that they hadn’t had any time for just the two of them.

 

He chuckled as Stiles’ legs gave out, sliding his free hand from the boy’s pert butt to wrap it around his hips and hold him up.

 

Derek supported his full weight easily as Jordan shut the water off and climbed out of the tub to grab his towel from where it was folded neatly over the towel rack. Both men paused as the material unfolded to reveal bloodstains, dark against the royal blue fabric.

 

It chilled his blood a little bit. He knew, _knew_ , that Stiles often got hurt, if not by supernatural creatures than by his own ongoing battle with gravity. But that didn’t mean he liked being reminded of the fact.

 

“Those are from ages ago,” Stiles reassured them, slurring slightly. “It took me a while to work out that hot water isn’t your friend when it comes to washing blood out.”

 

Jordan shook his head and wrapped the material around the limp kid, working with Derek to get him warm and dry. For all that he could probably stand by himself by now, Derek was loathe to let him go. And by the way the human snuggled into him and let him support his full weight, Stiles felt the same.

 

“I haven’t been hurt too badly,” Stiles reassured Derek. “All of my scars healed when the nogitsune created a whole new body for me.”

 

Jordan sucked in a surprised gasp of air. Derek felt the same way. He hadn’t known about that.

 

“So that’s not your original body?” Derek asked, the words coming out hoarse.

 

“Nope,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’. He was doing that thing again. That thing he did where he acted all casual about something because he didn’t want to talk about it. Derek hated when he did that.

 

Jordan seemed equally upset, if the look he levelled at Stiles was any indication. He didn’t push for more though, going back to towelling the human’s hair dry while Derek held the kid like a princess. It said something for how Stiles was feeling that he let himself be held that way without complaint.

 

When they were all relatively dry, albeit naked, Derek carted Stiles back into the room and dumped him into his freshly made bed, pulling the covers around him. He was practically asleep already, eyes droopy and hair messy. Derek would never tell him, but he looked twice as adorable without his hair gelled up. Plus it was soft and fluffy to the touch. He couldn’t help running his hand through it, feeling a surge of protectiveness well up. For all that Stiles didn’t need anyone protecting him, for all that he was fierce and strong and brave, Derek couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt.

 

“I was so scared,” Stiles blurted suddenly.

 

Jordan hooked the desk chair over and sat near Stiles’ head, his knees practically brushing Derek’s where the werewolf sat on the edge of the bed.

 

“When Scott bit the nogitsune,” the human clarified. “I thought… Well, I thought I was going to die. It’s why I didn’t tell him that all of my scars were gone. Because if this wasn’t my actual body, and Scott bit my body… And then it crumbled. Like. I… We were still connected, you know? I thought for sure that it was over. That we would both be gone.”

 

Derek didn’t know what to say. He settled for pressing a gentle kiss to the teen’s lips, cradling his face like the treasure he was.

 

“Thank you,” Stiles whispered, eyes started to droop further.

 

“You’re very welcome,” Jordan said, stroking a gentle thumb over the kid’s cheekbone. “And you’re worth so much to us.”

 

They watched as he drifted off to sleep, all wrapped up in his blanket, the fever slightly less than it had been. Derek stole a bit more pain, just for good measure, before leaning back and rocking to his feet. He paused and tucked the comforter around the human, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his slack lips. Time to get dressed.

 

He’d taken only a few steps towards the bathroom, and his clothes, when a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him to a stop. Jordan. He turned back and arched his eyebrows at the other man.

 

His breath caught. Jordan was aroused. His naked state was making that very, _very_ obvious. Derek swallowed, feeling his body start to respond. And didn’t it say something that just seeing the other man was enough to have his cock filling with blood? He responded to the gentle pressure on his arm by walking back, letting Jordan pull him until they were a hairsbreadth apart, until he could feel the supernatural heat of the other man radiating onto his skin, the soft wet heat of Jordan’s cock resting against his hip.

 

Jordan slowly leaned forward and blew a cool breath over the skin of his neck, raising goosebumps. Goosebumps that the man licked suddenly, before closing his teeth in a gentle bite on Derek’s neck.

 

Derek shuddered and caught the other man by the hips, yanking him closer so that their erections pressed together, trapped between the warm muscles of their bodies. Jordan smirked against Derek’s skin before shoving him, hard, pushing the werewolf off balance. Derek could have easily righted himself but he allowed the other man to force him down onto the chair, ignoring the ominous creak it made.

 

Jordan was in his lap almost instantly, cock pressing against his, trapped between their stomachs. Derek groaned, hands flying on instinct to the other man’s hips, holding him in place. Jordan grinned, snatching a bottle of lube off Stiles’ end table and wrapping his fingers around Derek’s cock, jerking him slowly and thoroughly. Fuck, it felt good. The man’s fingers were supernaturally warm, even to the werewolf, who ran hotter than a human. He leaned back, not caring that he was baring his neck, jerking his hips up into the tight, slick circle of Jordan’s fingers.

 

Jordan smirked and then pulled his hand away, settling it on Derek’s shoulder. Derek whined at the loss. He reached for Jordan’s straining erection, determined to return the favour, only to have his hand batted away. _Why_?!

 

The infuriating deputy tightening his grip on Derek’s shoulder, tightening his thighs around Derek and hovering slightly above the werewolf’s lap. Derek was… confused, right up until a warm hand grasped his cock and guided it the furled muscle of Jordan’s entrance.

 

He tried to jerk away, terrified. There’d been no prep, no lube, no… Jordan lowered himself slowly, sucking in a deep breath as the head of Derek’s cock pressed through the tight ring of muscle and into his body.

 

 _Fuck_. He was so fucking _tight_ , so _hot_. Jesus fucking Christ. Derek whimpered, fighting against the urge to thrust up.

 

Jordan slid down, agonisingly slowly, slowly sheathing Derek until he was settle on the werewolf’s lap. The deputy released a shuddering breath and he wriggled slightly, ignoring the way Derek’s claws dug into his skin at the movement, just shy of drawing blood.

 

Jordan leaned forward and moaned, eyes dark with lust.

 

* * *

 

 

The werewolf felt amazing. This wasn’t Jordan’s first time, but nothing had ever felt this good, except for maybe having Stiles’ tight ass around his cock. Huh. Maybe he’d be able to talk them into giving him both? Derek was thick and solid inside him, stretching his walls deliciously, rubbing him from the inside with every shift of their weight.

 

He settled both hands on the werewolf’s shoulders, feeling his lips tug at the wild look he received as he bounced up, struggling to get the leverage he needed. God, but the look on Derek’s face when he’d sunk down. It said something about how much the wolf cared for Stiles that he hadn’t even noticed Jordan preparing himself.

 

Derek seemed to notice Jordan struggling to move, looping his hands around the other man’s thighs, just above his knees, giving him stirrups to use as leverage. Jordan couldn’t help notice, with a badly suppressed smirk, that it had the added bonus of immobilising the wolf’s hands, putting Jordan firmly in control.

 

God, he could _torture_ Derek like this, keep him on edge until he was begging… But maybe not today. Not their first time.

 

He used the hands to rise up, until just the head of Derek’s cock was inside, before dropping down in one sudden move. Both men moaned at the sensation. _Christ_. Felt so damn good. Jordan had to do it again. And again. _God_ , it felt amazing. He rocked on Derek. The wolf, catching on to the quickening rhythm, began to thrust up. They ramped up, moving faster and faster, until Jordan shoved down onto one particularly hard thrust –

 

– and the chair collapsed beneath them.

 

Jordan broke out into surprised laughter from his position straddling Derek on the floor, the beta’s cock still buried deep within him. The wolf huffed, leaning up to pull the wreckage of the chair out from underneath him. He levelled Jordan with a baleful glare as the other man snickered.

 

Jordan tried to bring his humour under control as he saw the sudden shiteating grin on Derek’s face. That wasn’t good. That didn’t bode well for Jordan.

 

The werewolf surged up, flipping them easily, still inside Jordan, pinning Jordan’s wrists to the ground and holding them down. Jordan’s body was arched, his ass held off the ground in the werewolf’s lap, shoulderblades pressed into the hard floor. He made a show of struggling before giving up, letting the wolf press too-sharp teeth to his neck and begin thrusting.

 

God. Jesus Christ. For all that Jordan preferred to be in control, there was something to be said about being held down and _taken_. The wolf moved sinuously, each thrust strong and sure, pressing against Jordan’s prostate. Damn, he had good aim.

 

It was impossible. Every thrust was driving him higher. The feel of Derek’s strong hands pinning him, the brush of chest hair against the muscles of his chest, even just _watching_ the wolf’s abs move under his skin with every thrust… Jesus _Christ_. He was so damn close and he’d never come untouched, but his wrists were pinned, and he was getting closer and closer. He just needed _something._

 

* * *

 

 

Derek held back a groan with each thrust into Jordan’s body. He felt amazing, just as good as Stiles, and Derek was never going to be able to hold out.

 

There was just something about having all of those muscles laid out underneath him. He hid a grin as Jordan _whined_ , absolutely certain that the other man wasn’t aware of the noises he was making, broken off whimpers and desperate _ah ah ah_ s.

 

He waited, sweat dripping down his temples and beading on his upper lip at the sheer effort it took to hold back. And then he looked down and found Jordan’s eyes were _glowing_.

 

 _Fuck_.

 

Derek’s hips stuttered as the tight channel around his cock grew _hotter_ , his claws punching through the thin skin of the other man’s wrists with shock. And that? That apparently did it for Jordan. He was coming, body clenching around Derek, flames rippling across his body, ripping the wolf’s orgasm from him with a _howl_.

 

None of his supernatural strength could prevent his shaky arms from collapsing beneath him, dumping him on top of Jordan with a groan.

 

They were both staring at each other, sweaty, chests heaving. And Derek felt… buoyant. So damn relieved that there was something between them. That they weren’t just sharing Stiles, they had each other as well.

 

He leaned down and brushed his nose against the other mans, watching those green eyes go soft. Jordan licked his lips, drawing Derek’s attention to him. The moment was sweet. Perfect.

 

Which was probably why Stiles fell out of bed with a loud thump. Derek closed his eyes in resignation before gently withdrawing from Jordan’s body, turning to their clumsy lover, only to find him wriggling out of the tangle of his sheets.

 

The werewolf narrowed his eyes. Stiles was breathing easier, the feverish flush gone from his cheeks, body stretched out. He was looking a lot better. Suspiciously so.

 

He was also chanting _bestiary_ under his breath as he went.

 

“Stiles?” Jordan asked, from underneath Derek.

 

“Firstly,” the human said, “I’m not forgiving you for having amazing sex and not waking me up to watch. Secondly, your weird fire can apparently cure the flu.”

 

“Jordan was on fire?” Derek asked.

 

A quick glance at the deputy showed he was equally surprised.

 

“Dude,” Stiles said, “the whole room was full of fire. And you had fur on your back. Just fyi, don’t try that with me. Bestiality is _definitely_ a kink that needs to be negotiated beforehand.”

 

Jordan groaned and rose to his feet. The not-quite-human part of Derek was pleased to note that he absolutely reeked of the werewolf. And that a thin trail of come was sliding down his inner thigh. It held his attention as the man walked to the bathroom and grabbed Stiles’ stained towel.

 

He tried not to show his disappointment when the deputy wiped it up. It was probably too much to ask that his lovers walk around covered in dry, crusty come.

 

After Jordan had finished cleaning himself up, he tossed the towel to Derek and collapsed next to Stiles on the bed, leaning onto the teen’s shoulder to stare at the screen of the laptop Stiles had propped on his lap.

 

Derek grumbled under his breath and wiped himself off, trying not to flush as Stiles shot him an amused and indulgent look over the laptop. He crawled up between the human and the wall, pulling the covers over himself and curling an arm over Stiles’ lap. It was all too easy to drift into sleep, face buried in Stiles’ bony hip.

 

* * *

 

 

John Stilinksi considered himself a reasonable man. Very reasonably, in point of fact. Which was why walking into his home to find his teenage son sandwiched on the couch between two older men didn’t bother him all that much.

 

He wasn’t bothered at all, really, until he ducked upstairs to grab Stiles’ prized Star Wars DVDs, marvelling over the fact that Derek’s puppy dog eyes were significantly more effective than his own son’s.

He wasn’t bothered until he kneeled down to grab them from the box under his son’s desk and felt something wet seep through the material of his pants.

 

He looked down.

 

Something wet and white.

 

Well. When Stiles finally worked up the balls to tell him about all of this, they were going to have a conversation that would still be giving the kid nightmares when he was in his nursing home. But for now-

 

Was that Stiles’ chair?!

 

It was. Stiles chair was in pieces. And he did not want to think about what could have resulted on that. Or how vigorous it must have been. Why couldn’t they have used the damn bed?!

 

John muttered a few choice words under his breath and headed for the stairs. He’d hand the DVDs off to his deputy and let the three boys settle down.

 

Then he would take a long hot shower and potentially scrub his knee raw.

 

After that, he would make a note of this. When all of this came to light, he owed those boys so much grief.

 

And he planned to make sure they were embarrassed enough for a lifetime. That was a dad’s job, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to search for me on tumblr (http://divergentanomaly.tumblr.com/). I'm happy to write pretty much any teen wolf porn, especially rare pairs, and would love to be prompted, particularly for flash fic. Please be warned, though, that I will not write shota, incest, or abusive relationships that work out (I'm not kink shaming, all kinks are valid, but I can't write what I don't like)


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